


Lams Orphanage AU

by Tigerlilycorinne



Category: 21 Chump Street - Miranda, Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson, Hamilton - Miranda, In the Heights - Miranda
Genre: BoyxBoy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff, Gay, Gayness, Hurt/Comfort, Kleinsen, LGBTQ Character, Lams - Freeform, M/M, Marliza, Musical crossover, Musicals, boyf riends - Freeform, girlxgirl, mullette, musical reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2019-06-18 21:46:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 57
Words: 96,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15495354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tigerlilycorinne/pseuds/Tigerlilycorinne
Summary: John Laurens gets a job working at an orphanage to escape his abusive Father where he meets Alexander Hamilton, a coworker who is also running away from a terrible past. Both are treading too carefully to break their barriers and talk about it, and instead of connecting over healing from dark pasts they begin to run away from the subjects that remind them of home until the tension between them snaps. Later in the fic the rating will get worse, so watch for that.SPOILERS FOR WARNINGS*Mentions of abuse early onAbuse and violence by Ch. 21 and afterSuicide attempt by Ch. 37 and mentions afterThe second to last chapter is explicit. Skip it if you don't want to read that.





	1. Roommate?!

\---Alex’s POV---

“Washington, you asked to see me?” Washington was sitting behind his dark, wooden desk. Some guy seemed to be hunched over some paperwork or the like, so all I could see was a ponytail of gorgeous brown corkscrew curls.

“Hamilton, come in,” Washington said unnecessarily, “Have you met John Laurens?”

The man turned around and smiled. I stared. Bright green eyes, a happy face and so many adorable freckles.

“Alexander?” Washington’s voice snapped me out of my stare and I felt myself blush faintly as I offered my hand.

“N-no, I-we haven’t met, I believe,” I managed.

The guy that must have been Laurens flashed an easygoing smile and shook my hand. “John Laurens in the place to be!”

I managed to offer my own name, still staring at those bright eyes.

“Ahem…” Washington shifted in his chair awkwardly and gestured at us. I looked down to realize I hadn’t let go of his hand. I blushed and reluctantly pulled my hand back.

Washington smiled, “Glad you two are acquainted,” he said, raising his eyebrows a millimeter at me. I blushed harder. “John’s going to be working here too, and since he is going to be rooming with you I figured you could show him the ropes?”

_ My roommate _ . “I’d love to,” I squeak, “C-c-c-come on, let’s go.” I stuttered, cursing myself.  _ Talk _ Hamilton, goddammit. He nodded shyly and I picked up one of his suitcases, covered unapologetically in turtles. Cute. “We can bring your stuff to the counselor dorms before I show you around.”

“I can carry-” John started, picking up his other suitcase, but I waved him off.

“I got you man, don’t sweat it.”

We walked out of the room, and Washington called after me, “Don’t forget coffee or we’ll all be sorry!”

John glanced at me. “He gets grumpy without his coffee?”

I giggled at the thought of Washington throwing a temper tantrum because of a lack of coffee. I  _ giggled.  _ “Nope, he’s talking about me. He drinks coffee too, but he doesn’t  _ need _ it. Me? I can’t survive without  _ café _ .”

John laughed as we headed up the stairs, looking at the art that was posted on the wall. Beaming, he taped a picture of a turtle, on a wall labeled “ World’s Best Animal ” in bold lettering. “Nice choice, kid,” he commented to the paper.

I smiled excitedly. “Oh, yeah that’s Phillip, easily the cutest kid in the orphanage. Don’t tell anyone I said that, we’re not supposed to pick favorites, but he’s super cute and smart. You’re gonna love him. Come to think of it, he looks a lot like you.” We’d almost reached my-  _ our _ room.

John raised his eyebrows. Was he… blushing? “Y-you just low-key called me cute,” he pointed out timidly. 

_ Come and see the human tomato, Alexander Hamilton.  _ “I-uuh-OH, um, we’re here! Welcome to room 1776!” I fumbled with my keys until I found the right one and managed to open the dorm door. “Ta-da! Sorry it’s such a mess dude, I didn’t know I was getting a roommate,” I explained hastily. Tucking away my books onto a shelf, I tried my best to pile all my papers together with the other.

“Hey, it’s no biggie, we can clean up later.”

He set his stuff down and stacked the papers for me. I shot him a grateful grin as I shut my laptop.

I’d ask him about his past, but the way he looked at me- almost as if apprehensively expecting it- caused me to shut my mouth. He didn’t seem like he wanted to talk. I never wanted to field questions regarding my past either, so I decided to keep a lid on the questions, and keep an eye out for triggers and cautious subjects.

John’s face took on a cheerier light and he motioned to the door. “You can show me round and we’ll neaten up tonight yeah?”

“Nonono, I can clean it up, you get settled,” I protested, but he grabbed my arm and hauled me out the door. I blushed a little at the contact but didn’t resist, reluctantly letting him lead me outside.

“So,” he beamed, “where to?”

 

\---John’s POV---

I heard footsteps behind me, and then a voice, with the tiniest undercurrent of rushed, nervous note said, “Mr. Washington, you asked to see me?”

“Hamilton, come in,” Washington said, though it seemed the man in the doorway-Hamilton- already had. “Have you met Laurens?” He asked as I finished my paperwork and handed it to him, smiling nervously.

I turned to see a pulled back ponytail of jet-black hair. He seemed somewhat of a mess, but in a cute, awkward way.

“Alexander?”

“N-no I don’t think we’ve met.” he seemed nervous, but I noticed he seemed very comfortable with Mr. Washington. He held out a hand. I shook it. The hand was cool, and had calluses that indicated a lot of writing. 

“Alexander Hamilton, my name is Alexander Hamilton,” he said, seemingly unconscious of the odd cadence of his voice as he said his own name. He had on a shirt that said  Everyday Non-Stop like you’re Running out of Time. 

Mr. Washington cleared his throat and I dropped Alexander’s hand, which I’d kinda been holding.

He helped me carry my bags out and Washington called out after us as we left walked down the hallway.

“He’s talking about me. Washington drinks coffee too, but he doesn’t  _ need _ it. Me? I can’t survive without  _ café. _ ”  _ WHAT? Alexander speaks Spanish?  _ I was already helplessly in love.

When I looked at Alexander, I could definitely see bags under his eyes. His skinny body seemed to suggest he practically  _ survived _ off coffee.

Wall showed art and colorful posters that peppered the light green walls. I noticed there were two names I was repeatedly seeing,  _ Theodore Burr _ and  _ Philip Hamilton _ … I wondered if they were related?

“That’s Phillip.” I turned to Alexander when I heard him chuckle at my delight. “Easily the cutest kid in the orphanage.” For the first time since we met, Alex unconsciously dropped the timidness that surrounded him. “Don’t tell anyone I said that, we’re not supposed to pick favorites, but he’s super cute and smart.” Alexander rambled on, his face lit up and a genuine smile shone on his face.  _ God he must love this kid. _

Noticing I was staring at Alexander’s face, watching him talk, I quickly brought my attention back to what he was saying. “He looks a lot like you.”

My face must have been on  _ fire.  _ He seemed oblivious to the connection, meaning it’s what he actually thought and he wasn’t, like, mocking me or anything. Or maybe he was just a good actor.

“Y-you just low-key called me cute.”

Alexander turned bright red and opened the door to the room, mumbling something and stuttering profusely before collecting himself.

“Welcome to room 1776!” 

_ Everyday Non-Stop like you’re Running out of Time  _ was definitely a good description of the vibe I was getting from the room and pretty much everything about Alexander. It looked like a productive whirlwind lived here. 

“You can show me around and then we’ll neaten up tonight, yeah?” I offered.

He snapped out of whatever he was thinking and immediately protested, but I was having none of it. I grabbed his arm and pulled him out the door. I don’t think he even noticed the adorable squeak he emitted. “Where to?”


	2. Jared and the Blue Kid-Kleinsen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do we need a summary? Still the same fic, just another chapter in which Alex and John come across two adorkable and in love children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, thank you for reading, I know it's really bad so any writing advice, tips, etc. are very much appreciated.

\---Alex’s POV---

Oh, he looked so gorgeous with all those freckles and freckles and oh my god that beautiful  _ hair _ and his mood must’ve changed greatly because he’s smiling so widely. I’m glad he has happy thoughts, I hated that fearful, hurt-filled expression he had earlier.  _ Shoot Alexander freaking Hamilton he’s waiting for and answer. _

“I guess we should get coffee first,” I replied, trying to sound as if I’d been thinking about possible places to go.

“Sure,” John agreed cheerfully.

We walked toward the fence that cut off the grass playing area from the rest of the world. I’m glad I pretty much have the day off because it’s a beautiful day and I get to spend it with John. But mostly because it’s a beautiful day.  _ Don’t lie to yourself Alex. _

I almost tripped over a child.

“Oh, shi- sorry buddy.” I caught myself and John laughed. I love that laugh. “What’s up?” Evan looked miserable.

“Y-you f-forgot to unlock the b-bathroom,” he said, sounding strained.

“Holy crap, so sorry, gimme a minute.” I am capable of such extreme idiocy I see. I began racing toward the building but another kid with dorky glasses and a sarcastic expression came out the door.

“Go ahead Evan, I unlocked them,” Jared told his friend flatly. Everything he said was flat or sarcastic.

“Th-thanks Ja-Jared,” Evan stuttered gratefully. He gave Jared a tight hug, blushing, before racing off.

Jared was bright red.  _ Oh, they’re cute together. Looks like you’ll have another Michael and Jeremy on your hands in a couple years. _ Jared was attempting to leave casually. Not today.

“Jared.”

He sighed and turned around. “I know, no hacking the passcodes, only teachers are allowed to unlock things, yada yada yada.”

I couldn’t help but smile. The kid did have some talent. “It’s ok that you love computer programming and I love to have a kid that shares my interest son-”

“Don’t call me son,” Jared pouted. John looked on, amused.

“-Buuut, you can use your intelligence for things other than what you’re not supposed to do.”

Jared sighed like I was the 5th grader and he was the adult. “I do. I don’t usually hack the passcodes, other than to watch the occasional vine, but really I even only do that around twice a week.” I’m impressed. I didn’t know he had that much self control. “It’s just that Evvy needed to go to the bathroom, and I-I, well, cuz-” I think he’s more of a tomato than I was when I called John cute. I mean jeez, Jared’s got it bad. Although, at least Evan likes him back. John on the other hand….

Jared, failing to figure out how to finish his sentence, reverted back to his original statement. “Evan needed to go to the bathroom!” Evidently, Evan needing to go to the bathroom is reason enough to do just about anything. Eh. Ok.

“Alright, next time, come to me though ok?” I could tell he was surprised at getting off without punishment. Which is even cuter because when you’re in 5th grade, being willing to get in trouble for someone is kind of a big deal.

I shooed him off with an affectionate smile and he ran away beaming. “Invite me to your wedding,” I murmured.

“He’s so gay for the blue kid,” John observed from behind me.

“Yup. Evan really likes him back, you can tell. Aren’t they the sweetest?”  _ I wish you and me had something like that. _ I guess all in good time though.  _ If we became good friends we might become more _ … Haha, very funny. Right now we’ve barely met. It would be weird to even, like, hug or anything. I realized I was staring wistfully at the, ahem, young lovers (internally winking) so I turned around and unlocked the gate. John was gazing after them too, but he smiled at me at the clinking of the gate.

“Yeah, they’re really cute together,” he replied after a short pause. He sounded as if he was going to say more, but didn’t.

Still afraid of pushing boundaries, I said nothing.  _ He doesn’t seem unhappy, per say,  _ I told myself by way of excusing myself for not asking. It was true, though, he seemed more apprehensive than unhappy.

We walked in silence the rest of the way to the coffee shop.

 

\---John’s POV---

Alexander figured it would be best to get coffee first, so we did. As we walked down the hallways, I soaked in the colorful, happy, innocent vibe that surrounded the orphanage. So different from home. So safe, so secure. I realized not only did it have the comforting feel of a space for children, but also was very accepting. Anti-Trump signs decorated doors, art projects took the form of creative signs and posters for gun control, arguing the legitimacy of science and climate change. I saw feminist messages and projects based on equality in the workspace, racial discrimination, and more. My heart leapt as I noticed a pride flag fluttering from a door. When I paid attention, I noticed many other LGBTQI+ things: Allies flags, shirts and buttons on children weaving through the hallways and in classrooms.

This place was amazing. 

The sun was shining and cool breezes blow as we walked out on the bright grass. Two friends on a perfect day. I mean, if you could call us friends, I don’t know, I mean we just met and maybe I liked him as more than a friend but-

Alexander stumbled, jerking me out of my thoughts as he almost cusses. I realized he’s nearly tripped over a kid with big blue eyes. And a blue striped shirt. And blue jeans. This kid was covered in blue.

“What’s up,” Alexander asked the child in front of him. He looked like 10, maybe? 4th grade or so, perhaps a bit older.

“Y-You f-forgot to unlock t-the b-bathroom,” the kid informed Alexander shyly with a strained voice and a prominent stutter. He did look like he needed to go.

Alexander was frantic. He doesn’t seem to be capable of calming down. “Holy crap, so sorry, gimme a minute,” he responded in a rush. He back started towards the pair of green doors we’d just exited, fumbling with a ring of keys. Before he got very far, another kid came out of the doors.

Dorky glasses, about the same age as the kid Alexander had been talking to.

“Go ahead, Evan, I unlocked them,” the new kid told the blue guy,  _ Evan _ , in a flat voice that matched his expression.  _ How did this kid unlock the bathrooms? Isn’t he, like, 11?  _

Stuttering, the blue kid, Evan, thanked the glasses guy and hugged him. A little long for someone who needed to go to the bathroom badly. “Th-thanks, Ja-Jared.”

And the blue kid blushed. Awwwww. I looked at the sarcastic one to see his expression was noticeably less flat. In fact, he was blushing harder than Alexander when I pointed out he called me cute.

I think these two are going to be dating real soon. Anyone could see that they were crushing on each other A LOT.

Evan stumbled to the doors that I assumed lead to the bathroom as Jared slunk away, his eyes still on Evan.

“Jared,” Alexander said firmly. Wow, he can be authoritative I guess. Jared, sighing, turned back around.

“I know, I know, don’t hack into the passcodes, only adults are allowed to unlock things, blah blah blah.” I guess he knew what Alexander was going to say. I got the feeling they’d had this conversation before. Also, the doors had passcodes. I hadn’t noticed. And this kid hacked them. Wow, that’s pretty impressive.

Alexander said a couple things meant to be helpful to Jared, although they could both tell it was going nowhere. Jared had once more adopted a bored look.

Jared promised he wouldn’t do it again and attempted to supply an explanation, settling on, “But Evan needed to use the bathroom!” Obviously, his gayness wouldn’t let him stand by while his true love was in misery. I ship them. Even if it meant Father would hate me even more. You can’t control your sexuality; it isn’t a choice, although Father never will understand that. He would hate me even more I supported gayness in others.

Jared, seemingly prepared to take detention, brightened considerably when Alexander decided to not give him any consequences. Most likely he shipped them too.

“Invite me to your wedding.” Yeah, he definitely ships it.

I smiled, momentarily forgetting the blue kid’s name, I remarked, “He is so gay for the blue kid.”

Alexander replied, “Yup. And Evan really likes him back, you can tell. Aren’t they the sweetest?”

I didn’t rely immediately. I was too busy thinking Alexander was so clearly accepting. Should I tell him I’m gay? But then what if he realized I liked him? That would make any possible friendship very awkward. Maybe-

I decided to leave it. After all, we’d just met. “Yeah,” I agreed, “They’re really cute together.” That much was true. There was so much more that I wasn’t saying that was also true.

Alexander seemed to sense that I was lost in my thoughts because he didn’t say anything the rest of the way to the coffee shop. Neither did I.

Why was I so afraid to tell him I was gay? If his feminine clothes said anything, he wasn’t completely heteronormative either. And he was openly supportive. I was sure I’d tell him. I just wasn’t sure when.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you thought! This on was a lot shorter than the first, but it goes. Also, I figured to how to do the center text, italics, etc. YAAYYY!


	3. Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very bad at chapter titles, very very bad. sorry, I hope it's less generic than the title indicates. They go to get coffee at a shop that Eliza and Maria work at. So...
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: censored use of gay slurs, violence, abuse

\---Alex’s POV---

 _Ding! Ding!_ A bell jingled as we walking into a light room filled with light, pleasant chatter.

“Alex!” Eliza called to me from behind the counter, “You’re late!”

I smiled and shrugged in response. “Chillax, you know you love me.” She laughed when I winked at her.

“Eliza, John. John, Eliza.” I proclaimed. I’m crappy at introductions. “Eliza is an amazing, reliable person, the definition of a Hufflepuff.” She’s so modest, she blushed even though I introduced her this way to everyone.

John waved and shook her hand smiling. “Nice to meet you. John Laurens.” the smile on his face was genuine, but there was something unreadable in his eyes.

“He’s a new recruit at the orphanage,” I told Eliza.

“Elizabeth Schuyler, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” She always introduces herself to people with her full name and then insists people call her Eliza anyway.

“Schuyler,” John repeated.

Angelica, sipping iced tea with Peggy in the corner called out, “My sister!” rather loudly.

Eliza jumped and I laughed. John smiled politely, unsure of the Schuyler Sisters’ antics.

Eliza grinned and winked at me jokingly, “awkward finger guns,” she said out loud, while doing so.

I smirked, blushing a little when John looked at me oddly. Yes, our group is weird. The finger guns was an inside joke. It’s a long story. “You ain’t got no skills.” I always say this, even though the bad grammar irritates me. It’s another inside joke.

She laughed again, “Alex!”

“Yo, lemme get a-” I already knew she’d cut me off. I order the same thing everyday.

“Milky way”

“Yeah. Let me also get a-”

“Daily News.” I also stop here for everyday necessities. I consider it very important to know what’s going on. Especially politics right now, with the motherfucking cheeto, it’s just- you know what, I’m not even gonna start.

“And a-”

“Post.”

“And most important my-”

“Boss’ second coffee: one cream-” Washington is a bit particular about the way he likes his coffee.

I joined Eliza in reciting my daily order as we both exclaimed, “5 sugars!”

As she went to get the said items, I turned to John. I felt kind of bad because he’d just been standing there awkwardly, the new guy, while me and Eliza demonstrated how close we are and how we know each other really well. Yes, I’m an idiot. How many times have we already covered that?

I bit my lip and felt my face flush as I realized John was looking at me. Not in an attentive way, in a spacing out kind of way. Huh. “What do you want?” I asked him belatedly.

He jumped a little. “Wha-sh-uhh, what?”

I nodded toward the menu. “What are you gonna order?”

“Oh,” he said. He sounded sort of relieved. He turned to Eliza and placed his order. His freckles popped a bit more when he blushed lightly, although it faded quickly as he spoke to Eliza.

Eliza rung us up and John reached for his wallet.

NOPE.

“I’m paying.”

“I can pay.” His voice sounds soft. Not in volume, but like his voice sounds physically soft. No, I’m not kidding.

“So can I.” he began opening his wallet. I grabbed mine and flipped it open quickly, but he’s already gotten his card out. Eliza watched us, and amused smile playing on her lips.

He was about to give her his card. “NOPE!” I grabbed his wrist and tossed Eliza my card. He visibly flinched when I grabbed his wrist and I quickly let go. He seemed to shove something away. _Fuck._ Did I trigger something? He seemed to space out, a look of fear evident in his eyes…

“Alexander, it’s just coffee. It’s not even that much money.” _Alexander._ Oh, god, something just- I like this guy so much.

“Which means I can pay.” I hugged him gently, careful to make it soft and unthreatening, trying to comfort whatever storm was clearly wrecking him from the inside. I could feel him shaking gently from whatever he was thinking about. Is socially clumsy a thing because I think I’d probably just done the most socially clumsy thing, like, ever.

Eliza swiped my card, and I scrambled to sign, pumping my fist in victory.

I looked at John, concerned, as she handed us our stuff.

“You guys should get to know each other,” she said, pointing to a two person table at the side of the room. “Maria can bring Washington’s coffee to him.”

“I can what?” Maria popped up behind Eliza and gave her a cheeky grin. “I’d rather stay here with-”

Eliza gave her a look that said _you better do it_. I know her well enough that this means she’s scheming.

Maria shrugged. “Sure, I can do it,” she grabbed Washington’s coffee, winking at Eliza on the way out. They are such a cute couple.

John thanked Eliza politely and picked up his iced coffee, seemingly recovered, though a little shaken. I reached for mine.

Eliza stopped my hand and gave me the same look she’d given Maria. “Hamilton,.” she demanded, pretending to be stern, “a word.”

John shifted awkwardly and nodded toward the table. “Sure.” He plopped down onto a chair and pulled out his phone.

I eyed Eliza reproachfully, feeling bad because John was obviously uncomfortable and disappointed because I kinda...I don’t know, wanted to be around him?

I looked at John again. Yeah he looked acutely uncomfortable. And cutely uncomfortable. Did I mention the way his galaxy of freckles stand out when his cheeks flush?

I heard a snort of laughter and whipped my head back around to Eliza. She raised her eyebrows and nodded toward John. _Fuck._

“What?” I tried to sound honestly confused even as my entire face turned bright red.

She just smirked. We both know she can read me like a book.

“When are you gonna ask him out?”

“Who said I was going to ask him out?”

“Alexander hamilton why do you even try?” _Why do I?_ I am still blushing furiously. “You ask people out if you are romantically or sexually attracted to them.” She explained this to me as if I was a 5th grader. I made a mental note to say this to Jared.

“Who said I liked him?”

“Your face, the way you watch him, are hypersensitive to if he’s happy, whenever he looks at you you blush,” she really wasn’t helping the shade of red on my face. “Oh. And right now, when you were eyefucking him-”

“ _Eliza!”_ I choked on air.

“You were! -you audibly sighed.”

Good lord. _Why_ do _I even try?_

“I-I…” Holy shit John was watching me.

Eliza snickered. She put her hands on my shoulders and tippe my chin so I was looking directly into her eyes. I was so embarrassed I had no idea what to do. “...‘Liza….”

“Alex, I will never understand you. If you love this man, go get him! What are you waiting for?”

“We met today!” I don’t even know if he’s gay or bi or pan or anything! He might be straight you know.” Seriously, can she calm down?

“ASK HIM OUT. Keep me posted. If he hurts you Angelica will beat his ass for you.” I winced. She noticed and quirked her lips but continued, “If he doesn’t, invite my to your wedding and name your first girl after Angie.”

I would’ve asked her why Angelica and not her or Peggy or Maria but at that point I was so done with her I could only choke out, “C-can I go now?”

She laughed at my eternal blush and nodded. “You’re good to go.”

I shuffled towards John, trying to cool my face. It didn’t work. I suppose I deserved that, after doing practically the same thing to her about Maria, but she didn’t need to be so smug about it.

Obviously in reference to my skin color, he raised his eyebrows.

“What was that about?” He asked. His voice sounded...well, it sounded curious. And amused. And forced.

“Nothing,” I muttered. He does _NOT_ need to know.

“You got a thing for Elizabeth or something?” Again, something was off in his voice. Or maybe it’s just me.

“I-yeah, something like that.” Ha. ‘Liza?! If only he knew. I stared at my cup. If I could tell him, tell him everything I see. If I could tell him, he’s already everything to me. But we just met and I don’t know how I would even start. If I could tell him, if I could…

_Ding! Ding!_

The bell above the door jangled and pulled me out of my thoughts. I looked up and John had his eyes on me. He passed a plate to me. Cookies. He met my eyes. Beautiful, emerald green. I felt like there was a storm behind the glass, but it cleared when he smiled. His smile is so warm and big, it makes you want to smile back. So I did.

 

\---John’s POV---

When we walked into the coffee shop, a bell rang brightly, alerting everyone to our presence. They all seemed to know eachother, or be used to each others’ company, in any case. I caught a few curious glances my way. I was getting the feeling the orphanage and space around it was the sort of neighborhood where everyone knew, helped and was good friends with everyone else.

“Alex,” A young woman exclaimed. She was standing behind the counter; obviously she worked here. “You’re late,” she reprimanded. So Alexander must come here everyday, or at least regularly. Alex. A nickname. Huh.

“Chillax, you know you love me.” I turned back to Alexander as he spoke, catching his wink. _Do they like each other?_ I sighed inwardly and studied the woman. Straight brown hair hung down below her shoulders, brushing a white nametag. _Eliza_. A pretty name. She looked vaguely Asian and her skin looked pale, maybe courtesy to the natural lighting from the many windows in the coffee shop.

“Eliza, John, John, Eliza,” Alexander introduced us, gesturing. “Eliza is an amazing, reliable person, the definition of a Hufflepuff.” I smiled. I remember having seen the Harry Potter books in his dorm room, but it was another thing to hear him apply it.

I knew I liked Alexander, but there was no confirmation they were together, so my smile was real as I shook her hand and told her, “Nice to meet you, John Laurens.” I hope I come off as genuine. Afterall, she was a Hufflepuff, like me. PUFF PRIDE!!

“He’s a new recruit at the orphanage,” Alexander informed Eliza. Recruit sounded like an odd word but whatever.

Eliza smiled warmly at me, putting me in the mind of a mother, even though she appeared to be the same age as Alexander and I. “Elizabeth Schuyler. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Unsure of which name to use, Elizabeth or Eliza, I simply echoed, “Schuyler.”

“My sister!” came an enthusiastic call from the corner. I turned to see another woman, probably a couple years older than Eliza, with a tank top and darker skin tone. At this outburst, Elizabeth started and Alex laughed at her.

Elizabeth did some weird guns thing with her hands, saying, “awkward finger guns!”

Alexander laughed, giving me the distinct feeling that I was definitely not yet in their friend group. “You ain’t got no skills,” Alexander said. Double negative. If I gathered one thing from today, it’s that Alexander doesn’t talk like that. Probably another thing I’m not in on.

Next came a rapid back and forth that I barely managed to process.

“Alex!”

“Yo, lemme get a-” (He doesn’t seem like the type of person to use “yo” either).

“Milky way.”

“Yeah, lemme also get a-”

“Daily News.”

“And a-”

“Post.”

“And most important my-”

“Boss’s second coffee, one cream,”

“FIVE SUGARS!”

Eliza finished every order Alexander began to place and Alexander didn’t even blink. They clearly do this often, like a special handshake. They both said “5 sugars” and again it seemed intentional. Wow, these guys are in sync.

I felt my newness to the group acutely, and I looked uncertainly to Alexander, not really looking at him. I was more looking inward, feeling and thing too much about my awkwardness to pay attention to where I was looking.

I thought maybe he’s straight and he has a crush on Elizabeth. I wanted to tell him I was gay; I wanted him to know. _Mostly, you just want him,_ a voice in my head snickered.

“What do you want?” Holy mother of gay did he know? Did I say that out loud?

“Uh-sh-uh, what?” So incredibly intelligent, aren’t I?

Alexander jerked his chin to the brightly lit menu on the wall behind the counter. “What are you going to get?”

Oh thank god. I thought h heard what I was thinking, somehow. Quickly scanning the menu, I picked an order, hyper aware of my blush.

I reached into my pocket for my wallet as Elizabeth rung us up, but Alexander said, “I’m paying.”

“I can pay,” I objected.

“So can I.” Now we were both fumbling for our wallets, a race to pay first. Elizabeth looked on, amused as I moved to hand her my card.

“Nope!” Alexander objected passionately. This guy is all energy, I swear.

And then he grabbed my wrist.

I knew he was being playful. I knew it was only to stop me from paying. But what I knew didn’t stop the memories.

Time seemed to freeze, as did I as memories played through my head without my permission. I was vaguely aware of my protests that coffee was really no big deal, which is totally true by the way.

**_Flashback bc I’m so cliché_ **

_I’m crying, backed up against the wall of my room._

_“_ I should’ve known! _” Father slaps my face. “_ What with you obsessing over musicals, growing your hair long, not going to dances! _” Punch to the gut, slams me hard against the wall. My head bangs painfully against the dresser._

 _“_ This better just be a phase, you whore _.” More punches._

 _“_ I’m not- _”_

 _“_ SHUT UP! _” The hardest one yet. I’m curled a fetal position. It was one kiss. And we were dating. Therefore, it was no different than what straight people do._

 _“_ Henry, please!” Let him be- _” Father slaps Mother across the face and Mother and I are both stunned._

 _Mother stands her ground and now_ Father _and I are both stunned. I am terrified of father, but if Mother can be so strong for me, so can I._

_I stand up weakly. Shaking, unstable, but I am standing all the same._

_Father stops gaping at Mother. Pushes her put the door, slamming it and locking it. And hope is gone again. I wonder why I bothered to stand up. He’s just going to throw me down again._

_“_ Let him be?! _” Father snorts. “_ Let you be a f****t? _” He says, angry and incredulous._

_The word hurts more than the blows he continues to land._

_“_ No son of mine is a f****t _.” He declares forcefully. Weakly, I attempt to block a punch he aims at my eye._ He grabs my wrist _._

 _As if afraid he wasn’t convincing enough the first time, he screams this one, “_ NO SON OF MINE IS A F****T!! _”_

_He throws me on the ground again and this time I don’t bother to get back up._

**_End of Flashback_ **

**(I’m sorry. I promise I’m not evil.)**

        I tried to take deep breaths. To look cheerful. I gave up. I realized Alexander’s arms gently wrapped around my trembling body, sending warmth through me. I let him drain away the darkness, the fear.

        “You guys should get to know each other,” Elizabeth encouraged, pointing to a table. I realized I’d been frozen and jerkily turned to look at the table. 2 person, wooden, with those really high chairs that a lot of coffee shops seem to have. I turned back to Elizabeth as she offered brightly, “Maria can bring Washington’s coffee to him.”

I noticed another girl come up behind Elizabeth. About the same age, but rather than the sweetness I’d seen from Elizabeth, she had a more alluring look.

        “ I can what?” She asked playfully, tossing back rippling brown hair to reveal a nametag, _Maria_ , pinned on a uniform a bit tighter than Elizabeth’s. “I’d rather stay with-” A look from Elizabeth cut her off, and I wondered what she planned to say. Alexander? With looks like his, beautiful chocolate eyes and jet black hair and overactive demeanor – _John, your gay is showing-_ Yeah. Right. I mean, with all that, he’d be pretty reliable with the ladies. Why would he want a guy like me?

        “Sure, I can do it,” Maria reconsidered with a shrug. Her make up was well done. She looked amazing. If I was straight, I bet I’d like her. I figured Alexander did.

        Maria winked at Elizabeth as she walked out the door, Washington’s coffee in her hand.

        I thanked Elizabeth – “Call me Eliza” – and hoped I didn’t sound too unstable, still a bit shaken from my unpleasant trip down memory lane.

        Elizab-Eliza grabbed Alexander’s hand before he could pick up his coffee. “Hamilton,” she said, “A word.”

        Translation: New guy, leave me alone with the hottie. We know each other and you don’t know us so let us be. Completed with the mock sternness and use of the last name, something I couldn’t yet do because I just met them and we weren’t familiar enough yet.  

        I stuttered out a “S-sure.” And made my way to the table she’s indicated, cursing myself violently for my sudden inability to speak.

        I sat down, taking a small sip from my iced coffee. It was kind of weird just sitting there with no one else. And the girls and their respective connections to Alexander were whirling around my brain, making my want to shred a paper napkin from the black dispenser in the center of the table.

        Dude, weigh the options calmly and be still: I could fake pee or sit awkwardly and pretend to check a text on my phone.

        I pulled out my phone and pretended to scroll through it.

Mother <3: [Kissy face] Hey, sweetie, are you ok? How’s your new job? Meet any cute guys? [sly face]

Me: I’m fine, it seems like a wonderful place and they’re really LGBTQ+ accepting [smiley]. Met a gorgeous guy who is probably straight

Martha Manning: Hey gorgeous [heart eyes] better not be eyeing anyone over there. Dont fall 4 some 15 yr old orphan boy, ur mine

        ARG! When my father found out I was gay, he immediately looked around for some girl to force me into a relationship. Now Martha thinks we’re some lovey dovey couple. She forgets this whole thing is forced. Or at least, she acts like it. She’s really possessive too, because you’d be surprised how many girls were up for the pairing. I was.

        I went back to thinking about Alexander, not wanting to deal with Martha’s shit.

        The winking, laughing, and “you know you love me” seemed kind of flirty for just friends. So maybe it was Alexander and Eliza. But then Maria seemed to want to stay with Alexander, which meant that maybe it was Maria, not Eliza. And then Eliza gave her this look, so maybe it was like “girl, back off, that boy is mine.” So maybe it was Eliza after all.

        Or maybe they’re both after him. Yeah, maybe. And Eliza’s sister, who’s name I didn’t get, was watching them too, was she also into Alexander? I mean, I totally got it, he was so adorable and I liked him so I couldn’t blame them. _Oh, right._  And Maria winked at Eliza as she walked out the door. So maybe Eliza likes Alexander and Maria does too but she backed off and set Eliza up to have a nice, private conversation with Alexander by leaving with the coffee, a best friend move.

        My mind was not usually this active, but I bet Alexander’s mind looked like this 24/7. OOF.

        As I pulled myself out of my thoughts, I realized I’d shifted my gaze from my phone screen to Alexander and Eliza.

        Eliza’s expression was smug and suggestive, while Alexander’s was beet red.

        As Eliza spoke, Alexander’s face got even more red and Eliza’s got even more smug.

        Then Eliza placed her hands on Alexander’s shoulders and touched his chin so he’d look her in the eyes.

        Wow, I mean, jeez. Why did I even hope? I they’re already a couple. The only reassuring thing was that they didn’t kiss.

        I grabbed a couple of chocolate chip cookies from the plate to cheer myself up as Alexander walked towards our table, looking sheepish and awkward.

        Trying to infuse as much happiness, curiosity, and I-don’t-really-care into my voice, I asked, “What was that about?” I was already composing a never mind. _Never mind. I don’t really care anyway…_

“Nothing,” He muttered. Funny. Though he took his sweet time walking over here and hadn’t even looked at Eliza for the past two minutes, his blush still hadn’t faded. He must really like her.

        “You got a thing for Eliza?” I tried to sound offhand. Maybe I was trying too hard because I sounded fake even to myself.

        “Something like that,” He acknowledged quietly. He seemed like he didn’t want to talk about it, not in an embarrassed way but more like that’s-a-sensitive-subject. Which I understand completely, as a gay guy, but if he’s straight, which he seems to be, I see no reason to be sensitive about it. Still, I won’t touch it if that’s what he wants.

        _Ding! Ding!_

The bell above the door brought Maria in and Alexander’s eyes to mine. I’m told my eyes are really nice, maybe he’ll notice. I smiled a bit at the idea and maybe he did notice my eyes, or at least noticed something about me because I could tell it was genuine when he smiled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Constructive criticism is always welcome.


	4. Take the Money

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So now there are a couple other POVs we're going into, Eliza and Sally. Why are they important? You'll see.  
> TEIGGER WARNINGS: Violence, abuse

\---Eliza’s POV---

I really could not understand Alex. If he loved this guy, he should go get him! What was he waiting for? Mr. Laurens seemed like a pretty great guy.

With corkscrew curls and bright green eyes and freckles, I had to admit he looked good. He didn’t flaunt his beauty, though. Another point.

The liking seemed mutual, I observed, as I noticed Mr. Laurens watching us. I turned my attention back to Alex as Sally took the next customer. I’d talk to her about that later.

“You’re good to go.” The poor guy looked ready to pop, and I reluctantly left our conversation at that. I hoped Alex’d make a move soon, they seemed very fit for each other.

Alex walked slowly over to Mr. Laurens, clearly trying to give his face time to cool off. I smirked.  _ Good Luck with that. _

I heard the cash register ring and waited for Sally to finish with Usnavi.

“With cinnamon,” he reminded Sally anxiously.

“When have we  _ ever  _ forgotten Vanessa’s cinnamon?” She asked teasingly, raising an eyebrow.

“Just checking.” Usnavi replied, looking relieved.

“-Checking, I know,” Sally finished, amused, “you do every day.

Usnavi thanked Sally, scooping his two coffees off the counter, and Sally turned around towards me, looking equal parts sheepish and defiant.

“Sally-”

“You were talking to Alex, no one was taking Usnavi’s order!”

“Why are you here?” I already knew what she was gonna say: she didn’t want to be late.

“I was scared traffic would make me late to work, so I decided better early than late?” She always says this. She already kows we both know what’s really going on.

I raised my eyebrows, adopting the look of a stern mother, though she’s only a couple years younger than me. “Right. You were afraid the  _ ten minute _ drive through usually  _ empty streets _ would have  _ too much traffic _ so instead, you decided to be  _ 3 hours early? _ ”

Her light brown skin flushed to the roots of her braided black hair, but she said nothing in reply.

I sighed, exasperated. “Your shift is at 1:00. PM. It’s 10:00.  _ A.M. _ ”

“I just-” Sally protested indignantly. She was so sweet, and I really appreciated her help. It was actually extremely useful, but I didn’t want to encourage her.

“Sally, just because Alex and I helped you with Thomas doesn’t mean you’re obliged to help me. I really have to pay you for your work.” I pulled a couple bills from the cash register, including the Miranda Alex had slid me a couple minutes ago.

Sally looked horrified. “No, really, Eliza, it’s the least I can do to thank you-”

I shook my head with an endearing smile as Maria slipped in behind me, giving me a quick peck on the cheek. I probably had some lipstick on my cheek now. Then again, it probably wasn’t visible through my blush.

“Oh, don’t tell me you two are at it again.” She groaned, looking at me, hand outstretched with the money and Sally, still stubbornly refusing it.

“Maria, tell Eliza that helping someone out of an abusive relationship is something you should do everything you can to pay back.” Sally told my girlfriend firmly, looking directly at me.

“Maria, tell Sally that anyone decent will do everything they can to help their friend if they’re getting beaten and mistreated and cheated on by their partner and it’s just honoring the golden rule.”

“See,” Maria shifted cautiously, looking back and forth between me and Sally and backing up a couple steps, “I agree with you both. Sally, we can’t just let you work for nothing, it’s not fair and we can’t do that to our friend-”

“Thank you! See?” I exclaimed triumphantly as Sally simultaneously cried out in protest.

“-But! Wait,” Maria continued, giving me a look. “I understand Sally too. Mot many people go out of their way to help with a situation like that.”

“It was mostly Alex,” I unhappily muttered, flushing.

“Even so, when you saved me from James I fell in love with you.”  _ Dammit, Maria’s gonna turn me as red as Alex! _ Sally looked elsewhere as Maria swooped in for a kiss.

Her soft red lips hit my pink ones gently and I kissed eagerly back, shyly deepening the kiss. She closed her eyes and I felt her lashes brush my face as I did the same, gently running my fingers through her soft hair as she wrapped her arm around my waist, pulling me closer.

* _ Cough.* _

We shot away from each other in the blink of an eye, and whirled around to see a middle aged blonde woman, quirking an eyebrow.

“Heidi!” We exclaimed simultaneously, in the same shrilly embarrassed voice. 

“Sally is straight and you-” Maria gave me a wink that renewed my color- “are taken so she has to channel her gratitude differently.” She turned to Heidi. “The usual?”

Heidi nodded, flicking a lock of processed hair behind her shoulder and giving us a condescending smile.

“You girls are the sweetest couple,” she laughed, but your father doesn’t like you kissing at work.”

She tutted, pretending to be disappointed, and we pretended to be alarmed. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell.”

We pretended to be relieved.

“You two go sort this out, I’ll handle the coffee,” Maria told us decidedly.

_ How can I deny her anything? _ I wondered dreamily, glancing at her full lips. Quickly, I grabbed Sally and pulled her into the back, sighing.

“Here, take the money.” I demanded. She just looked at me and shook her head. “Sally, take the money!”

“She held her hands up in a “not me” gesture. “I don’t want your money. I worked here just for you, keep your money.” I groaned.

“Sally listen, please just take the money, you’re making me feel guilty, take the money.” I was practically shoving it into her hands.

“Girl, you know you need me here, I come through for you, every time.” She gave me a look, reminding me of my earlier talk with Alex, when she took over. “Just in time.”

I sighed. “You really did come through for me,” I admitted finally. She beamed, hazel eyes lighting up. Hmmm.  _ I can twist this _ , I decided. “There’s only one more thing you need to do for me,” I added slyly.

She perked up, raising an eyebrow with an expression that read “whatever you say, I got you.”

“Take the money.”

“Uhg!” She fumed. “Why, ‘Liza? You know I won’t take it!”

“We can burn it,” I suggested. Don’t ask me why burning was my answer to everything. But if she wouldn’t take it and I wouldn’t keep it, threatening to burn it might convince her to accept pay.

“We can all use it,” Maria offered, making us both jump. “We’ll give it to Angie, and she can take the kids to buy little welcome gifts for the new guy.”

“Actually, that sounds like a really nice idea,” Sally remarked, sounding a bit surprised.

“Yeah, let’s do that,” I agreed readily, giving Maria a kiss on the cheek for coming up with a good compromise. She took a mock bow.

“Thank you, thank you,” she proclaimed pretentiously. “I am a genius, no?”

“No.” I replied with a smirk. “Who’s attending the counter?”

I burst out laughing as she gasped, her amber eyes wide. “Ooops…” She answered meekly, dashing back out.

“I’ll give Angelica the money,” Sally offered eagerly, once more anxious to be helpful.

“Sure,” I agreed, handing her the money. Even though I knew she wasn’t going to use it, there was something satisfying about finally getting her to take the money from me.

“Seriously though,” I called after her, “that thing was all Alex and you know it!”

\---Sally’s POV---

I counted the money in my hand as I walked toward the corner table where Angie was sipping tea with Peggy. Eliza was gonna give me $200? Jesus.

Eliza was far too nice to me, really. Well, she was far too nice to everyone. I did wish she’s just let me work for her. After all, I truly felt indebted to her and Alex after they helped me out-saved me, I should say- from Thom-Jefferson.

I knew I owed Alex more than Eliza, but to be honest, I was afraid that if I did something for Alex I would give Thomas more of an excuse to beat him up. Jeffershit, I mean. Not that he needs an excuse, I just think he’d be even more inclined to hurt Alex if he had a reason to believe I liked Alex. So I can’t thank Alex through actions, though I definitely have verbally thanked him more times than either of us could count.

To make up for it, I work overboard to do things for Eliza.

“Hey Angie,” I greeted Angelica cheerily, smiling a bit timidly. “Hey Peggy.”

“OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD,” Angelica screeched, grabbing Peggy’s arm dramatically and squeezing it until it turned white, “She finally took the money!”

Peggy simply gaped. Then she noticed the grin I was trying-and failing- to suppress, and narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t, did you?”

“Nah,” I laughed, “Of course not.” Both Schuyler sisters gave a disappointed sigh. “The money’s for you, Angie. You’re supposed to give it to your kids to get little gifts for the new guy.”

“Alright,” she conceded, albeit reluctantly. “Fine. But someday you’re going to have to accept payment.”

“Yeah, Sally, how are you going to live,” Peggy chimed in offhandedly. Dammit, she was kind of cute. Her brown hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail and she wore a yellow Miranda T-shirt that was far too big for her. Her yellow leggings showed she was actually pretty slim. And who the heck manages to look good in  _ yellow _ ?

Ah! Snap out of it! Reply! Respond! React! I flashed them both a grin. “Someday, someday.”

I knew Eliza wasn’t going to let me work behind the counter, so I slipped in when her back was turned and went to go organize the back rooms.

_ Crap Sally, you need to watch yourself. No eyeing girls in public.  _  Nobody knew I was pan. I needed to keep it that way. Jeffershit was always looking for people to beat up. If someone knew I was pan, the word could reach Thomas, who’d immediately come the the conclusion that I liked Eliza. After all, I helped her out all day, every day. He would probably go for Eliza. Nobody. Touches. Eliza.

I thought back to when she helped me: she’d found out what was going on when I’d stayed to late at work one day.

Eliza was in the back rooms so Thomas must have thought the store was empty. Except, of course, for me.

The welcoming baby blue-and-white striped walls were thrown into a darker shade by the dimming light outside as the orange of the sunset made the blue look brown and the white tan.

Thomas stormed in, slamming me forcefully against the countertop, the marble cold against my skin.

“I told you to be home by 7!” He growled menacingly. He towered over me, blocking the little light that still shone from being the hills.

I couldn’t even stutter a sorry before he slapped me hard across the face, undeterred by my wimpers. Yanking me off the hard countertop, he began pulling me forcefully toward the door, and I stumbled behind him meekly. Far be it from me to resist and risk worse injuries. A slap and a shove was enough for me, thank you very much.

Then, Eliza rushed in from the back rooms, probably having heard Thomas’s voice. She’d come out just in time to see him slap me.

“Hey!” She yelled. Her voice was loud and firm, strong even though I could tell she was frightened. When her voice shook, it was with anger, not terror. “Don’t treat her like that!”

Thomas had heard of how Eliza had helped Maria out of her relationship with Reynolds. He looked almost… scared.

After a moment’s hesitation, fear, stubbornness, and anger chasing each other across his face, he roughly released my arm and ran into the night with an air of disgust.

Eliza’d fixed me up, but Thomas wasn’t gone. He’d find me soon enough and Eliza couldn’t protect me forever.

Alex came, and tried to get him to stop, but he came out beaten worse than I’d ever been. The purple bruises that littered his thin frame was more than enough to make both me and Eliza beg him not to go back.

The police, of course, were too preoccupied to help a back woman out of an abusive relationship. They had to make sure those black 10-year-old children playing on the slide of the elementary school playground weren’t robbing the bank. Of course,  _ they _ think “making sure” is done best with bullets.

Alex, of course, turned to writing. Nothing he wrote was exaggerated of untrue, but somehow he wrote it to become so much more moving, inspiring, and portrayed me as more than just a black woman who had to live with the mistakes of a badly built bond. It was so much more  _ real _ . After reading his pleading letter, the government finally decided to intervene, and I was eternally thankful to Alex.

Thomas took up a much healthier bond with James Madison, who he apparently couldn’t bear to hurt, although he still refused to admit they were more than friends. He still put down LGBTQ+ people. He wouldn’t accept who he was, but anyone could see he  _ definitely _ had it for James.

Unable to beat me up for escaping him due to the government’s (minimal) help, he make a point of making clear no one else could have me either. Any guy I got close to or appeared to like he would beat up.

I only liked Eliza and Maria as friends, nothing more. But he wouldn’t believe me.

Peggy, actually, was pretty cute, my head singsonged slyly.  _ She is _ , I admitted. Peggy was already out: Panromantic bisexual. Technically, we could happen. Right? But because of Thomas, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to come out as pan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you for reading this! I hope I'm not completely terrible!


	5. A Whole lot of Talking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So basically they talk a bit, get to know each other, and have a couple debates for Alex's sake.

\---Alex’s POV---

John jerked a thumb towards Maria. “Maria dropped off the coffee so we could get to know each other,” He reminded me. I almost felt his tension melting away with every smile. “We shouldn’t let that be for nothing.”

“Oh, right, of course!” I exclaimed. Oops. “Should we just, uh, take turns asking questions or…?” I already know not to ask super deep or prying ones. With a past like mine, I rather people stay at surface level. If I want to talk about it, I’ll talk about it, but I want to initiate the conversation. I try to honor that for other people, though I come off as a little cold sometimes.

He shrugged with an easy smile. “Yeah, sure. Favorite color?”

“Does gold count? Yellow? Sunshine?”

“Sure! Mine’s green.”  _ Like your eyes _ I almost replied, but I bit the inside of my cheek and shut myself up. “Like turtles,” he added.

“I think I can guess, but favorite animal?”  _ Turtles. _

“TURTLES!!!!” I swear I could live by the light of his happiness in this one second for forever. His eyes shone with love and he radiated this positive aura. It felt like the time Washington had said he’s adopt me and then showed me the orphanage. I wondered it John was recalling an equally beautiful time in his life. At least, his expression showed turtles held a solid place in his heart.

“Mine’s a platypus,” I declared after a short break of awkward smiles. It occured to me he might want to argue on behalf of turtles, and I quickly explained. “Wait. Before you hate on me, because I see you love turtles, let me explain. First of all, can we agree to disagree? Because I know you won’t give up turtles and I don’t want to argue for the rest of my life about which is the best animal.”

John nodded formally, eyes twinkling. “Agree to disagree,” he conceded.

I opened my mouth to continue, but he interjected before I said a word.

“-IF you have a good reason.” A bit of a challenge in his tone. Well. If there’s one thing I can do, it’s argue. I grinned.

“You’re on.” I launched into an explanation. “First off, I love them because they are weird.”

“Okaaaayyyy…” John stretched the word, and arched his eyebrows. He gave me a blank look...twisted his mouth... _ why am I getting the feels? _

“Oh, oh my god,…Simon…?”

His eyes popped. Clearly, he’d meant it as a joke to himself. “You actually caught that?!”

“Yeah! They made a movie of it too, it’s called-”

“-Love, Simon! I loved it!” 

“I know, me too!” I grinned. “Suck a good movie. Excuse me, dick a good movie.”

John burst out laughing. “I have a feeling I’m going to love my new roommate,” he commented, winking at me.

I blushed lightly. “The feeling is mutual.”

A short silence followed this statement, and we smiled at each other and blushed.  _ Gorgeous. _

“A-anyway, yeah. I love platypuses because they’re different. They’re weird and unique. If it was normal, there would be nothing there to make it special, you know? Duck bill, beaver tail, mammals, and yet they lay eggs, they’re totally different. They deviate from expectations. If you look at the right pictures, they can be cute, although admittedly not as cute as turtles. And, they have a poisonous barb on their webbed feet so they’re badass as well.”  **(OK. So the thing is, I don’t know how to argue, so this is just like a placeholder, imagine Alex said this stuff but in a way more eloquent and understandable yet intelligent way. Yeah.)**

John’s eyes were wide and he was looking at me with this kid of low key awe. I was used to people gaping after I finished speaking, but somehow, when John did it it felt special. He looked so sweet and pure in that moment that I lost my strand. “So, um, yeah.” I consequently lost my capability to end with a genius conclusion.

John applauded me and, grinning, I took a bow. “Wow, just- wow. You can  _ talk _ !”

“Well, yeah, I think by now you’d’ve noticed I’m not mute.” I threw down a snarky comment to cover my blush. People complimented my speaking skills all the time, but this was the first time I didn’t feel like, dismissive about it. Usually people tell me and I’d internally be like  _ Yeah, I know. _ But coming from John, it felt uplifting. It felt like what it was: Praise.

When he finished blurting out stuttering comments on how, yes, he knew, but he had no idea, etc., during which my face got too red to be healthy, we picked up the previous conversation.

“We forgot the basics,” I reminded him belatedly.

“John Laurens, South Carolina, 22, Hufflepuff, male, ... _ gay. _ ” John rattled off promptly, trailing off at the end. I didn’t really hear the last word, but it sounded like “gay”? Maybe I just wanted to believe it’s true, so my mind is trying to make it true.

“What was the last one?”  _ Please, please, please… _

“GUY! I-I said  _ guy _ ! I mean, you know, like, male? Guys, gals, nonbinary pals, I identify as a boy-”

“Yeah, yeah, pronouns he/him. Got it.” I gave him a thumbs up and a wink. His face was deep red. Jesus Christ. I don’t know what he said, but from the way he rambled, it was anything but “guy”.

Oh well. He didn’t want to tell me? I wasn’t going to pry. “Alexander Hamilton,” I started. Shoot.  _ Where you’re from… _ I blocked out thoughts of Nevis. Nevis was a place of bad memories. A closet in my mind that I preferred to keep closed.  _ Move on. _ I skipped the question. “...20, Slytherin AND PROUD, male.  _ Guy. _ ” I added slyly.

“O-oh, haha,” John forced awkwardly. In the blank silence that followed, I cast about for something to say and decided to start another debate.

“So. Hufflepuff. Obviously inferior then.” I sniffed snidely.

John reacted immediately with and indignant sound. “Excuse me, the door is over there, Alexander. Hufflepuffs are the most underrated group in existence. Just because you can argue better than me doesn’t mean if you win this debate that Slytherins are better. I’m putting that out there now, before the argument comes.”  
Damn. Saw right through me. “Ok, fine. I won’t place your house lower of higher depending on the outcome. Of course, Slytherin is the best regardless so…” **(I am a proud Hufflepuff and though I can argue both, do know my position on the matter. Hufflepuff FTW!!!”)**

“Absolutely not. Hufflepuffs are better by far. Their character traits obviously make them the best people. Their souls are the purest and they’re the most compassionate-”

“-Buuut, Slytherin traits set you up the best for success. Ambitious? Cunning? Weighing your options carefully before choosing a course of action?”

“And sometimes those traits take away from the goodness of your character. Your pride is too strong for you to apologize and make amends when you’re wrong. Hufflepuffs are humble. We can admit when we’re wrong and put their pride aside to fix that.” This was becoming a real debate. I needed to pull ahead.

“Sometimes they’re too good for the greater good.” I almost confused myself as I said this. I knew the idea I was trying to convey, but putting it into words was harder. Good thing I was a “good articulator” in Washington’s words.

“That makes absolutely no sense.”

“You know the Jedi?” Damn, I had to pride myself on this comparison.

“Uhh… yeah,” John acknowledged, unsure of where I was going.

“Sometimes they were so stubborn about their principals and their code they were unable to do what was actually best for them all. Like they refused to kill a bunch of innocent people-”

“-That’s a good thing, so would I-”

“-in order to save many more people because they didn’t want to kill those few innocent people. That’s something a Hufflepuff would do, where as a Slytherin would weigh the options. ‘Either I kill 5 innocent people and save 500 lives, or I don’t kill these 5 people and we all die.’ They would, reluctantly, kill the 5 people and this make the decision that is generally better.  _ Therefore, _ there are times when a Slytherin’s traits are better suited for helping everyone than a Hufflepuff’s.”

John once more looked thrown by my ability to speak and think quickly. This was the one thing I knew I could do when everything else felt unstable. Language was my anchor.

After a moment of blinking, when John took in my rapid answer, he had a response. “Yes but others see their compassion as an important trait because they are trustworthy and understanding if you tell them your secrets. They feel they have a friend in you, you know what I’m saying? Like, if you need cheering up, your Hufflepuff friend is your go to. They’ll set down whatever they’re doing if you need them and they’ll sacrifice their own happiness for yours. Plus, of there’s something someone could personally gain by letting a lot of people die, the Slytherin might take that option.”

“Excuse me?” I thought I had every right to be offended on behalf of all Slytherins.

“Oh, some people think you’re great, you’ll always be adored by the schemes you create, but other-”

“-Wait-”

“People think you’re crooked.”

Oh no he didn’t. He did not go there. But he wasn’t even done, “you’ll give up the greater good for your own gain.” He spread his hands as if to say,  _ it’s true. _

“I beg to differ.” He better get ready. “Although some Slytherins may be terrible, villainous people, they aren’t all like that.” I couldn’t count how many times I’d pitched this argument.

“All of the wizards who went bad, except for a few, were from Slytherin.” John argued.  _ Here we go again. How many times have I already gone over this? _ I hear this every. Single. Time.

At least it meant I was ready to refute him. I launch into an eager rebuttal. “Yeah, Peter Pettigrew-”

“I said except for a few,” John protested quickly.

“I know, OK, so this is true. Most, almost all of the wizards gone dark are from Slytherin, but it is a very square-rectangle situation.” Giving me a confused glance, John nevertheless nodded at me to continue. “A rectangle is a parallelogram with 4 right angles, a square is a parallelogram with 4 right angles and the same length on each of its sides. This means that ALL squares are rectangles, but not all rectangles are squares. In fact, there are a many, many rectangles that aren’t squares. For example, walls, pictures, normal paper, rectangular rugs, bricks, wooden planks on wood floors-”

John’s mouth turned up as he coaxed me along with a gentle interjection of, “Yeah, yeah, I get it, continue?”

I gave him an apologetic smile. Sometimes, I go off on long tangents. Once I talked for six hours at a convention and everyone attending was listless. Because I was young and no one knew who I was, they had no respect. I heard comments that people didn’t even try to speak quietly. A sarcastic “Bright young man” and “Yo, who da F is this” still sound in the back of my mind when I step up to speak. “in the same way,  _ almost _ -” Here I paused and gave John a deliberate look, “all bad wizards are from Slytherin but not all Slytherins are dark. Many are perfectly wonderful people., like yours truly. I mean, I’m definitely not a wizard, but I’m not the dark type even though I am a Slytherin. Also, squares and rectangles are the general idea, seeing as  _ all _ squares are rectangles, but not all dark wizards are from Slytherin, and exception in wizards that is not reflected in the relationship between squares and rectangles.” I took a deep breath and concluded, “Thus, being a Slytherin does not, in any way, guarantee or even suggest any over-large amount of selfishness and remorselessness as to warrant the belief that they would choose personal gain over several innocent lives.”  **(Again, please pretend Alex is better at arguing than I am. Also. ok, guys, can I just say that yes, I am a Hufflepuff. I don’t win most arguments about the best house, but I try, and we all know it’s Hufflepuff anyways so~**

**I do, however, use this argument, not against Hufflepuffs but just in defense of my Slytherin friends.)**

“Wooooo!” yelled John, earning several unfriendly looks from peaceful coffee-drinkers. I shot them defiant glances in return.  _ Let him be. Jesus.  _ He applauded me yet again, on his feet. “Bravo! Take a fucking bow yo, that was amazing!”

I laughed, blushed, and looked down at the dark wood table. “Thanks.” Taking a mock bow, I opted for a superior look. “I am but stating the truth.”

He smiled. Oh my god, that smile. “Congrats on a debate well won. I did give you a fight.”

I smirked, still playing the snooty Slytherin, “Uh-huh.”

“I look forward to rooming with you,” He remarked, almost shyly.  _ Did that sound gay to you because that sounded really gay to me. _ Or maybe I just thought that because I wanted it to be like that.

Face burning, I managed to stutter out, “Likewise,” almost choking on the last drops of my coffee.

John helped me up because I’m short and gay, finished his coffee and we tossed our cups.

I was practically skipping as we walked out the door.

 

\---John’s POV---

I definitely could tell Alexander reveled in speaking and arguing. When I suggested we talk about ourselves, he brightened, having spent the last minute staring blankly at his cup of coffee.

I learned he liked yellow because of its relationship with sunshine. He loved platypuses because they were different and special, tempting me to reply “kind of like you” before remembering he was straight. I challenged him to tell me why, mostly just to hear him talk, if I’m honest.

Mine, of course, is a turtle.

I remember when I used to go to the pond. It was my senior year and I couldn’t see any guys, even as friends, because Father didn’t trust me. He monitored my phone and arranged weekly between Martha and I.

Even though I cooperated, for Mother’s sake, we were still hit. The both of us. He refused to understand that sexuality is not a choice. He was convinced that if he beat me enough, or beat Mother because he knew how much I cared about her, I’d “give up and go back to being straight.”

Except I’d never been straight. And even if I had been, I couldn’t choose to go back because IT’S NOT A FREAKING CHOICE.

I tried to act straight but he saw right through me. My escape was the pond. Father preferred to stay inside, raising my brother under all the anti-gay policies he could think of so Henry Jr., who we all called Junior, wouldn’t end up like me.

I’d sit at the pond and cry, rant and talk out my worries, problems, and emotions to the turtles. I knew they were just turtles, but it felt nice to not be cut off by someone shooting down who I was before I finished a sentence. I soaked up the green of nature, the peace of the pond, the sunlight shining on the water. The freedom of the turtles. When Mother had to be with my brother, or cook, or stop Father from doing something, the turtles would always be there.

Even though I knew they didn’t understand a word I was saying, it felt good. I always felt better after I talked to the turtles.

We agreed to disagree about the best animal if he could argue his case well. Which, of course, he did. I knew he wasn’t someone to get into an intellectual fight with!

I made a Simon reference, and he responded with a better one. Based on this interaction, I figured I’d love his company, and told him as much, to which he  _ blushed. _

I learned he was two years younger than me, and was clearly uncomfortable about where he came from, (I made a mental note to not bring it up, along with who he liked).

I accidentally murmured “gay” too loud. I meant it just for me but he heard it. I told him I said “guy”. I hope he fell for it.

He was a Slytherin, I, a Hufflepuff. Naturally, we engaged in a debate, which he outshone me in very much.

At the end of the aforementioned debate I leapt to my feet, clapping my hands off and cheering. People shot me looks but whatever because Alexander was freaking incredible and I needed to express that.

Silently, I vowed not to let the argument go, though. Hufflepuff would make a comeback or I was not a worthy Hufflepuff.

As we walked out the door, I noticed Alexander was much happier than he was the rest of the day. I guess debate really cheered him up. I could see his face light up as he spoke, gesturing emphatically and over all enthusiastic about whatever he was talking about.

I wondered if maybe someday I’d find a way to make him as happy as speaking did.

I snorted.  _ Have you heard your thoughts, John? In your dreams. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and sticking with it even though it's really bad! And I'm sure my editing is terrible as well. I'm working on it.


	6. Cafeteria Tour Guide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go to the cafeteria, because Alex is showing John around, and I am really bad at making things sound interesting, so please just read it.

\---Alex’s POV---

John seemed to be watching me with a sweet smile that reached those forest green eyes.

I beamed back at him. “So, today’s pretty freeform, I guess, since really I just need to, like, show you around. We can stop in a couple classes, the major rooms, and I can point out a couple of kids to you. I’m guessing Washington went over the basics with you? Up at this time, unlock these things at those times, do this if that happens, etcetera?

John nodded. “Yeah. The normal responsibilities and protocol.”

“So out of those three,” John looked at me, confused. “I-out of stopping into classrooms, meeting kids, and going around to different places, such as the cafeteria and assembly room, which do you want to do first?”

“Oh, I, um, any of those is good. Cafeteria?” John settled on the quickest option.

“The kids aren’t in there right now because it’s only 11:00,” I remarked, “We can go before it becomes a war zone.”

John smirked. “Is it as bad as a high school cafeteria? If not, I can probably handle it.”

Yeah. I shot through my education, skipping grades and taking accelerated courses. I got most of my education, though, on Nevis. Specifically from Pre-K to my third year of college. Washington adopted my at 17, and I finished college in America. So. I didn’t go to an American high school. I went to highschool on Nevis.

“I-uh, didn’t go to a, um, or I went to a different, a highschool different from-than most,” I fumbled, sounding like a certified idiot.  **(Me too, Alex, me too)** “What are high school cafeterias like?” I didn’t really want to think about Nevis right now.

“Oh,” John returned blankly, puzzling out what I’d just said. I steered us to the left as he replied, “Pshh, the cafeteria? Imagine hundreds of teenagers yelling, and running full speed, and the lack of deodorant, let’s just say, you were lucky  not to have to live through that.”

I laughed. “Lucky me,” and, half afraid he’d ask a question about where I  _ had _ gone, I barreled onwards, “Now is a good time, anyway. Then we can have lunch while they have lunch and I can point out a couple of kids during their break.”

John agreed readily, before pointing out uncertainly that I hadn’t included visiting classrooms.

“I mean, you don’t really need the classroom experience,” I explained hurriedly, “I was thinking you’d just meet the teachers or whatever, which we can do at around 4:00, after they get out?” I posed it as a question, hoping I didn’t come off as bossy or controlling. I heard some people thought as much *cough* Jeffershit, Madison, Charles Lee, Samuel Seabury *cough*. I was trying to change that. On the other hand, my closer friends who knew me better inform me that as shit bags, their opinions didn’t count.

“Sounds like a plan!” John agreed with enthusiasm, his excitement obvious in his voice.

“Right,” I instructed. After this turn, the cheerily lit cafeteria was directly ahead of us, empty of children.

“I’m sure I’ll get used to the area,” John declared sounding a touch lost, “But does anybody have a map because that would be so much easier.”

I held open the door for him and he stepped inside, murmuring thanks. “Not really,” I answered hesitantly, wishing I could be more helpful. “I mean, usually any visitor will just be guided wherever they need to go by someone who works here and if they work here they learn the layout of the orphanage pretty quickly, so I don’t think there are any printed ones.”

John shrugged, his green eyes betraying a sliver of helplessness.  _ Awwwww. _

“But if that’s what you need I can find some for you, or I can show you around until you get it on your own.” I interjected before he could reply. I could spend more time with him! I am, clearly, very professionally motivated.

His eyes lit up again and that wide smile once more appeared. “You would do that for me?”

I returned the smile, trying to ignore the fluttering of my heart as I caught the spark of gratitude in his hopeful expression. “I can be your guide.”  **(Guy, Guide? Ayyyy)**

In my best impression of a tour guide’s overly enthusiastic but utterly unconnecting manner, I proclaimed dramatically, “And here is the building, built in the 1800s by Vanessa Nadal and remodeled recently by George Washington, the man who currently runs the Graham Windham orphanage, this room is used to seat all the children as they consume their food, prepared for them in the kitchen right next to this room, through that door to your right,” here I gestured energetically to the nondescript kitchen door, quirking my lips at John’s unmasked amused grin. “It is free seating, unless something gets out of hand, in which case the children are sorted into general age groups. They are not divided grade-wise because the orphanage does not educate grade-wise, giving classes to general age groups in a very general manner.  **(I don’t know what is and isn’t considered an official education in the US, and although I doubt this qualifies, let’s pretend it does.)** Since they take in orphans of all ages from 0 to 17, many of the younger orphans are fed in a different, completely separate building for toddlers and babies. That building, perhaps the closest thing to simultaneous heaven and hell...”

John snorted, appearing to enjoy my performance immensely, and gamely looked in the direction I pointed.

“Is located down that path and to the right. Save these few young people and most of the staff, who dine wherever they please, dorms and restaurants, staff rooms, playgrounds, classrooms, and the like, save these few, the cafeteria of Graham Windham Orphanage serves as the feeding grounds for everyone in the orphanage.” I concluded my impression with a flourishing gesture, mocking a tour guide once more, and John clapped for me, the third time this day.

“I’m having to applaud so much for you it’s losing its meaningfulness,” He remarked, chuckling lightheartedly.

“Yeah,” I laughed along, but in truth, I quite enjoyed being applauded by him and truly couldn’t picture myself ever being indifferent to his praise.

There was an awkward pause as John scanned the room before breaking the silence with a small cough.

“Basically,, “ He summed up, “everyone except staff and tiny kids eat in the cafeteria. The cafeteria was built in the 1800s. It was recently remodeled, and it’s right next to the kitchen where the kids’ food is made.”  
I blinked. How could someone say exactly the same thing with such fewer words? That was a skill I desperately needed to work on. “Yup,” I replied, popping the ‘P’ cheerily, “You nailed it!”

John smiled shyly, his freckles becoming just a tad more visible over the light pink that flushed his cheeks. “Where to next?” He asked, clearly ready to get to know the orphanage more.

I considered the question, thinking out loud to answer him. “Well, we’ve seen the cafeteria, we’re going to see the children after lunch and meet the teachers after classes are over. We’ll eat lunch while they do, and their lunch is in about…” I checked my watch’s glossy black hands: 11:30, “half an hour.”

John’s eyes flickered down to his own wrist for a split second, a flash of a shadow whipping across his face. I was almost positive I’d imagined it, and knew he probably wasn’t even conscious of whatever feeling had pricked him.

He absentmindedly slid out his phone and glanced at it, checking the time, as he listened to me reason through our plans for the day, nodding in understanding.

“So,” he began tentatively, as if unused to proposing ideas, “we could do something or go somewhere for 15 minutes to half an hour, then grab something to eat, and continue with the rest of the day.”

I sent him a warm smile, reassuring him that it was a good time analysis. In fact, he’d followed my reasoning to a tee.

“Yes,” I replied, turning toward the kitchen, “exactly.”

\---John’s POV---

Alexander realized I was watching him as we exited the coffee shop and a few steps later I realized I was unconsciously smiling at him.  _ That’s what happens when you like someone,  _ my mind murmured smugly, but I was too busy observing him to care.

Alexander was smiling at me genuinely in response to my own and my heart melted like the chocolate of his eyes.

I saw happiness there, purity. He’d been so preoccupied today, I hadn’t yet seen him in a moment where his heart was showing more than his brain. Right now, I could tell his focus was on me, and on his happiness, rather than that being a side to the usual center of his focus, his nonstop thinking.

It was beautiful.

And then his brain caught up, and he quickly laid out our options in a swift, efficient, understandable way. That sounds easy. It’s not.

Our goals for today, he told me, were to

  1. Visit classrooms
  2. Visit important rooms (cafeteria, assembly room etc.)
  3. Meet kids



He checked to make sure I’d already learned the basics of the job, which I confirmed with a nod, and then asked me which of the 3 I wanted to do first. (Which, like the moron I am, I had to have recapitulated to me.)

“Oh, I, um, any of those is good,” I replied, once more demonstrating my articulation skills. “Cafeteria?”

Considering my suggestion, Alexander checked the time, and told me wryly, “The kids aren’t there right now because it’s only 11:00. We can go before it becomes a war zone.”

I remembered my years in high school. Middle even,=. From the number of kids the orphanage had, I’d guess they didn’t even come close. “Is it as bad as a high school cafeteria? If not, I could probably handle it.” I snarked with confidence.

To my utter surprise, he reacted to the casual, offhand and completely insignificant question rather extremely. His face paled as a expression best described as  _ oh shit _ flashed quickly across his face, only to become less shocked and more unhappy as he seemed to recall something briefly. Then his face flushed and took on a hopelessly confused but a tad bit determined set to it as he fumbled for a reply.

His speaking skills seemed to vanish, a sure sign of his acutely lost composure, when he finally managed to stutter out, “I- uh, didn’t go to a, um, or I went to a different- uh- a high school different from- than most,” he mumbled.

“Oh,” I responded, unsure how to respond because I wasn’t quite sure what he’d said. Basically, he went to a high school unlike most? Maybe he got a scholarship to a private. They’d be idiots not to offer one to someone with a brain like his.

After a beat, during which Alexander indicated to turn left at a crossroads, I commented wryly, “Pssssh, the cafeteria? Imagine hundreds of teenagers yelling, and running full speed, and the lack of deodorant, let’s just say, you were lucky  not to have to live through that.” I was careful to make the message clear: highschool is shit.

I didn’t want him to feel out of the loop or anything, you know? Anyway, it was true. I added ‘school’ to the mental list of things not to bring up around him. He didn’t seem comfortable with that subject, to say the least.

“Lucky me,” he said dryly with a laugh. He sounded a little flat, but whatever it was disappeared quickly. “Now is a good time, anyway. Then we can have lunch while they have lunch and I can point out a couple of kids during their lunch break.”

“I’m down for that,” I agreed enthusiastically, ready to explore. Then- “Wait- you didn’t say anything about visiting classrooms?” Alexander seemed to remember practically everything and I imagined his mind to be impeccably neat and organized, so this breach might have been intentional, I wasn’t sure.

He quickly clarified my confusion, explaining that I would just meet the teachers around 4:00, after their classes were over. His voice lilted upward at the end, making it a question which somewhat confused me because it sounded well planned. He definitely knew better than me.

I didn’t even attempt to disguise my eagerness as I replied speedily, “Sounds like a plan!”

“Right,” he said. It sounded like a statement, or dictation, and I blinked, confused. Oblivious to my momentary strandedness, he blithely turned right.  _ Wow, John, you’re smart. _

God, how was I ever going to remember all of these paths and turns and buildings?

“I’m sure I’ll get used to the area,” I stated with conviction, as much to myself as to anybody. Still… “But does anybody have a map because that would be so much easier.”

Without a map, or other assistance, I was sure to get lost at some point. It’s only a matter of time.

Alexander held open the door for me ( _ What a gentleman _ giggled the voice in my head), and I entered the cafeteria. I hoped my faint blush would be less noticeable in the cafeteria’s lighting than the pale, sharp light of the sun. “Thanks,” I acknowledged.

Picking up on my earlier question, Alexander replied, “not really,” sounding uncertain. Is that a yes or a no? He explained that most either are guided or catch on through experience. He sounded and looked genuinely regretful about being unable to help me.

_ Play it off. Don’t make him feel bad! _ I shrugged it off as best I could, resigned to learning the hard way.

It clearly didn’t work, because he offered quickly to guide me himself until I knew my way around.

Oh god, that meant I’d get to hang out with him until I learned my way! Aaaaahh-! I tried not to look to excited, and agree without sounding gay- “You would do that for me?” slipped out. So much for not sounding gay.

He agreed readily, giving me and adorably shy smile.

My heart squeaked.

I would try to learn my way around quickly so as not to hinder him and be a nuisance or anything, but I’d surely enjoy the time I did end up spending.

Alexander gave me a reassuring grin and launched into a description of the cafeteria, perfectly nailing the persona of a tour guide and once more blowing me away.

I tried to focus on the words- “1800s,” “Vanessa Nadal…” and I did get the gist of it.

Mostly though, I once more found myself paying inexplicable attention to Alexander’s face as he spoke. The light in his eyes rekindled. His fake tour guide enthusiasm was unnecessary in the light of his true love for-  _ you. What the hell?!  _ -speaking.

This was how I could tell his mind was so organized. His sentences were complicated yet understandable and he spoke eloquently without seeming to try.

A light flickered on inside him as he spoke, repelling a small, extremely thin layer of fog that shifted around him. I didn’t know if he was even aware of it.

I caught myself wondering why I’d noticed. Was I that attuned to his mood? Maybe I cared more than your average passing crush. Maybe.

He showed me the door to the kitchen, through which I vaguely heard singing, before explaining to me the general system of the cafeteria.

As he finished, taking an elegant, if excessive mock bow, I once more jumped to my feet. “I’m having to applaud you so much it’s losing its meaningfulness.” I told him honestly. It was true; I wanted to acknowledge his brilliance, but had no other way of appreciating it other than praise and applause. I felt like at this point the applause was losing sincerity because I was doing it too often.

I looked around the cafeteria again, unsure of how to dispel the awkward silence that had slipped in.

I coughed the most obviously fake cough in the history of ever and tried to sum up what he’d told me. My sentences, next to his, were a mess. Clearly, my articulating skills needed work.  **(Me too, John, me too.)**

“Yup!” Alexander approved cheerily. Haha, yeah sure, we both knew that was shit. Still, his compliments made me blush and induced feathers that tickled my insides, making me smile in spite of myself.

I inquired where we’d go next, hoping to distract both me and him from my blush. He answered with a speedy analysis of our time, working out the time arrangement as he spoke. Father always made my decisions for me; it took me a moment to realize he was doing this so I’d understand where he was coming from. Maybe even suggest something. Not that I would. His reasoning was flawless.

I showed him I understood his thought process by nodding along, until he stopped and looked at me. Startled, it occured to me that he was wondering what  _ I  _  wanted to do. That was new.

I cautiously started, “So..” and abruptly realized I was utterly inexperienced in the practice of creating a plan. “We could do something or go somewhere for 15 minutes to half an hour then grab something to eat and continue with the rest of the day.” In my attempt to not sound stupid, I ended up outlining our time frame and actually recommending nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I am always open to feedback! It will get more tense, I promise.


	7. Mr. Heere, Put Your Pants On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go to make lunch together with the lunch guy... Mr. Heere. I love crépes...

\---Alex’s POV---

“We can help out in the kitchen.” I suggested, “We actually make food, so it’s actually edible. Then we can take some for our lunch.” I liked the food made here, it was pretty good, actually. I often got my meals from the cafeteria.

John made a face that clearly showed disgust, “Cafeteria food?” at this idea. His eyes quickly widened the tiniest bit, as if he was surprised at himself. I almost missed his nearly imperceptible flinch. Almost. “I mean, if you think-”

_ What’s with that?  _ I wondered vaguely, while giving him a comforting smile to calm him down. “I promise it’s good,” I interrupted gently.

“O-okay,” He responded instantly, giving me a -nervous?- smile and a badly timed thumbs up. He was clearly a bit offbeat at the moment.

I gave him another careful smile, looking into his wide green eyes to show I was sincere. I opened the door labeled “kitchen” in black letters in a small brass rectangle in the center of the door.

Cooking fumes immediately enveloped us, cheese, sweet sugar, creamy batter. We both inhaled deeply and smiled. 

“Mmmmm….” I moaned appreciatively as he scepticism on John’s face fell away.

“If the road gets muddy-y, focus on the goal ‘till the rough stuff’s gone, when you love somebody, you put your- Oh, hey Alex, who’s the new guy?” Mr. Heere stopped short, looking only mildly embarrassed to be caught singing in his underwear while cooking as a first impression.

“I… uhh… John! Um, John Laurens, pleased to meet you…?” John held out a hesitant hand. His introduction sounded more like a question as he stared.

“Mr. Heere!” Mr. Heere replied eagerly, exuding a childlike air of obliviousness. He pumped John’s hand with enthusiasm. “What can I do for you two gentlemen today?” he inquired.

“Actually we were wondering if we could help you, in exchange for some lunch.” I explained to him hopefully. John stopped staring with obvious effort as Mr. Heere pointed to different parts of the room.

“For sure! You can grate cheese, slice ham, cut fruit, cut croissants in half, assemble sandwiches?” He offered, gesturing to each station in turn.

With a voice still sceptic, John asked what we were making. Clearly, he was still weirded out by Mr. Heere.

Mr. Heere explained we were making croissant sandwiches and cr êpes of all fresh ingredients, per usual.

John’s pretty eyes widened as he heard “ cr êpes”. “Wow…” he breathed softly, eyes shining.

“Think it’s ok?” I laughed, looking at him in askance. He looked… well, he looked beautiful, pure amazement and excitement gracing his features, giving him a young and innocent look that matched his wide eyes, freckles,  _ adorable _ ponytail, and rounded face.  _ Awwwwwww. _

“I am thoroughly impressed,” was his earnest reply. I smiled softly in return.  _ Oh, look at those eyes…  _

“Glad you like it!” Mr. Heere exclaimed, bustling between us with a box of powdered sugar and nutella.

John jumped, volunteering, “I’ll do the cheese, and slice the tomatoes.” And walked away to do just that.

I followed him, and soon we were churning out sandwiches as smoothly as if it was what we were born to do.

“We make a pretty good team,” I commented with the most casual air I could summon. My heart was a bit overly tense as I awaited his reply.

“Yeah, absolutely,” John beamed in response, steadying my nervousness but not at all helping my heart rate. I couldn’t get over his smile!

 

“Bye Mr. Heere,” John called out as we left the kitchen. Lunch was prepared and set out, ready for the little ager hands to grab them up. “I’d love to stay and help sometime!”

I chuckled as all we heard in response was, “Still ya gotta go-o-o-o-oh!”

John laughed freely, relaxed once more. I remembered when we walked in he was considerably off his groove, but Mr. Heere had the effect of making people relax into themselves. Great man, Mr. Heere.

“He’s completely weird and awesome at the same time.” Observed John admiringly. “That’s not an easy feat.”

“He makes it look easy; he makes it feel easy,” I replied in earnest. “Stopping in is always a good pick-me-up if you ever need one.” I quietly recalled how shaken John had looked when I’d playfully grabbed his wrist, how tense he suddenly became whenever presented with the opportunity or expectation to do something alone; generate a plan, find his way around, etc..

It’d definitely be useful for him to have a place and person to help him relax and come out of his shell.

John laughed, more at ease than I’d seen him yet. “Why does he sing a song about putting your pants on for someone you love, but walks around wearing no pants? Is it, like, his way of saying he doesn’t love anyone or...what? I mean, is he just goofing off?”

When I first came here, that was one of my most nagging questions too. The truth is, “I still don’t really know, I just got used to it I guess. It’s just kind of what he does.”

John nodded, picturing this. “Yeah, I thought it might be,” he admitted frankly.

“Not to mention,” I added slowly, still nervous to make this remark, “If you really loved somebody, wouldn’t you, uh,”  _ dammit! I started, now I have to finish. _ I was blushing so much. I regretted all life decisions. “You, you would take your pants  _ off  _ right?”

“Uh, I-I-uhh yeah,” John laughed, no more chill than I was. I could tell he was blushing at least as hard as I was.

To shake off the embarrassment and awkwardness, I immediately changed the subject. Not very smoothly. I stumbled onto the most obvious subject change as I was reaching for the right thing to say. “Where do you want to eat lunch?”

Immediately looking alarmed, John quickly blurted, “Well, I mean, I don’t know what’s around here or anything so maybe you could choose...?”

I realized he was uncomfortable making a suggestion, so I wrapped my arm around his shoulders, telling him, “We can eat and walk around to a couple other rooms?”

John flinched a bit when I slung my arm around him, and I instantly relaxed my arm, making it as limp and nonthreatening as possible.

I felt his shoulders untense and mentally pounded into my brain:

No.

Sudden.

Physical.

Contact.

Why couldn’t I get that through my head? Admittedly, I did enjoy physical contact with John…

“Let’s head to the assembly room?”

 

\---John’s POV---

“We can help out in the kitchen,” Alexander proposed. “We actually make the food, so it’s actually edible. Then we can take some for our lunch.” He genuinely appeared to believe that the cafeteria food was good.

Needless to say, I was not a believer. When has there  _ ever  _  been edible cafeteria food? I might not have disguised my doubts very well when I asked incredulously, “Cafeteria food?” because I could hear how skeptical I was in my voice. Remorseful and surprised at myself for having questioned something, I stammered out an apologetic add on, saying that Alexander knew better…

Last time I disagreed with a plan, Father hurt me, And mother. Because whenever he suggested something it meant he was demanding it. Ordering it.

I bit my lip viscously. I hoped Alexander didn’t see my doubt as a blow to him personally or a challenge or a question to his authority or knowledge or-

Alexander was smiling at me. Not a sadistic, threatening smile like the one Father wore when I questioned him, but a warm comforting smile that hugged me and dissolved my fear in moments. “I promise it’s good,” he assured me quietly. It was a verbal hug. He wasn’t mad at me. Whoa.

“O-okay,” I blurted shyly like a little kid. I tried my best to return his enveloping smile, though I’m positive mine wavered a bit.

Since my smile was probably incredibly unconvincing, I gave a thumbs up, glad at least my hands were steady.

He opened the door for me again, and I instantaneously dropped all doubts about the food as I caught a whiff of the delightfully scented air.

Cheese. Cheddar, I thought.

Something sweet and a little nutty. Chocolate?

Baking. Bread of some sort, maybe.

I revered to much deeper breaths through my nose.

A dancey tune floated through the air, and soon I caught the words: “If the road gets muddy-y, focus on the goal ‘till the rough stuff’s gone, when you love somebody you put your-”

I turned to see a middle aged man wearing an apron over a pale, somewhat faded blue shirt, singing a casual way that made me think he probably did this all day.

“Hey Alex,” The mn greeted us jovially. “Who’s the new guy?”

Suddenly I realized that he had no pants on. His bottom half, blocked from front view by the somewhat messy apron, was covered only by underwear.

My mind was rather preoccupied with this, so I didn’t manage to respond to the guy.

Realizing I was staring, I stuttered belatedly, “I… UH… John! Um, John Laurens, pleased to meet you…?” My voice, to my chagrin, trailed off into a question as I once more attempted to get over the fact that the man in front of me wore nothing but underwear below the waist all day.

I offered a hand, which he shook extremely energetically, exclaiming, “Mr. Heere!” It took me a second to realize he was saying his name, not spewing a random adverb at random.

I felt my doubts about lunch come flying back like a boomerang, despite the incredible smell that still encased us.

“What can I do for you two gentlemen today?” he asked, looking for all the world like an over eager actor attempting to pass as a stout banking clerk.

Alexander offered to help out in the kitchen. We would get lunch in return. He seemed genuinely eager to get going.

I, on the other hand, still hadn’t wrapped my mind around the fact that he was fine about being around a stranger with no pants.

Mr. Heere, acting like a normal person, conceded to Alexander’s suggestion. He proceeded to rattle off a couple of possible tasks. “For sure! You can grate cheese, cut fruit and croissants, assemble sandwiches?” He offered, gesturing to each station in turn.

“...What are we making?” I inquired, failing to pull the doubt out of my voice.

“Croissant sandwiches,” he informed me promptly, listing the ingredients: “Freshly baked croissants, sliced cheese, ham, lettuce, tomatoes,” Mr. Heere recited, ticking off his fingers, “all fresh. Some won’t have ham,  _ vegetarians _ , some won’t have ham  _ or _ cheese,  _ vegans _ .” Ok, but wow that actually sounded good. I began to consider the food might be  good, pants or no pants. Then he blew my mind. “Also, I’m making  cr êpes. Ham and cheese, cheese, nutella and raspberries- Oh, you could also sprinkle powdered sugar on those…” he whipped around to turn several  cr êpes.

Holy hell. I had been slowly easing my way onto this ship, unsure if I really trusted it to get me where I wanted to go. Then I heard the word “ cr êpes.” And I got the fuck on board.

“Wow…” I murmured, breathing in deeply.  _ How did I ever doubt this guy? _

Alexander laughed at the wonder I didn’t even try to conceal. Granted, Mother never had the time or bodily capability to cook food like this. Cooking always fascinated me.

“Think it’s ok?” Alexander asked, watching me anxiously.

I honestly answered, “I am thoroughly impressed.” and my heart skipped a beat as he smiled in return.  _ He’s just so sweet… _

Mr. Heere burst between us carrying a box with ingredients for the  cr êpes.

I started. I’d been staring at Alexander.  _ Again.  _ I quickly offered, “I’ll do the cheese, and slice the tomatoes.” I walked over to the place where the croissant sandwich ingredients sat. 

I was seriously excited. Father never let me cook or prepare food. That was “women’s work.” He thought that it would encourage my gayness if I did work meant for girls.

Like, seriously dude?  _ I’m gay. Deal. _

Alexander came over to help me, swiftly assembling the sandwiches and cutting the ham smooth and perfect.

Since I’d never done food before, my tomatoes and cheese slices were terrible, and some weren’t even fit to put in a sandwich. It didn’t help that I kept looking away from my own hands to watch Alexander cut small, perfect slices with his small, perfect hands.

We soon developed a system and worked rhythmically” He’d cut the croissants, placing slices of cheese and tomatoes that I cut, sliced ham, and put that and lettuce on, then I’d put them into the toaster and take them out.

He was so  _ quick _ and  _ smooth _ and  _ systematic _ .

“We make a pretty good team,” he told me mildly.

He was so offhand about it, he had no idea I internally screeched. “Yeah, absolutely,” I immediately blurted, unable to hold back a huge smile.  _ Your gay is showing _ . My mind muttered.  _ Dammit, I look like an idiot. _

I tried to cool my face, losing myself in the rhythm of my cutting.

15 minutes passed in a flash, and soon Alexander was marching me out the door.

God, I loved that. The food, the delicious smells, the background singing of a busy Mr. Heere. I hoped we’d come back.

I hollered, “Bye Mr. Heere!” reluctantly as we walked out. “I’d love to stay and help sometime!”

He sang back, “Still ya gotta go-o-o-o-oh!” Alexander and I laughed, and as the laugh bubbled out of my throat I realized I felt more open than I’d felt in a while.

Mr. Heere was like a turtle.

“He’s completely weird and awesome at the same time,” I fervently declared. I wasn’t used to being so honest about what I thought of people. Usually I’d be cursing myself for the slip, but somehow I was only surprised at myself. Bless Mr. Heere. “That’s not an easy feat.”

That much I knew. If you were weird, you were awesome. But it was really hard to work up the courage to show your inner weirdness. If it comes out twisted in the way you think people will like better, than you’re not really showing  _ your  _ weirdness, thus you aren’t truly awesome because you aren’t truly weird. 

**** “He makes it look easy, he makes it feel easy,” was Alexander’s spot on response. He put it into words very well. For the first time in forever, he’d made me feel at ease. Alexander added wisely, “Stopping in is always a good pick-me-up if you ever need one.”

The quiet look he sent me made me wonder if he did notice how tense I’d been before we’d made lunch.

It felt nice to have someone understand me, but somehow I was a bit afraid of going there too. It was uncharted territory. So I bought the conversation back to lighter matters, asking why Mr. Heere sang a song about putting your pants on but walked around with no pants himself.

Shrugging, Alexander simply replied, “I still don’t know, I just got used to it, I guess. It’s just kind of what he does.”  _ Wow, that’s helpful. _

Then again, it made sense. It seemed like something Mr. Heere would do, if I was to judge him off the 15 minutes I’d spent with him.

“Yeah, I thought it might be.” I told him, nodding.

With an embarrassed smile. Alexander voiced what’d been floating around in my mind. “Not to mention, if you  _ really _ loved somebody, wouldn’t you, uh,” he blushed considerably, “you, you would take your pants  _ off _ right?”

I was thinking the same thing but I was too gay to not be embarrassed saying it to Alexander.

I was also too gay to respond to it like the casual joke it clearly was. My extremely articulate response was: “Uh, I-I-uhhh, yeah.” Filled with nervous laughter.  _ Let me go die. _ My face was too red to be healthy and I was terrified Alexander would interpret it as me taking the joke gayly (not gaily), which I was.

Completely unfazed by the latest awkwardness fest, he asked, “Where do you want to eat lunch?” clearly moving on from the subject of pants.

I, for one, was delighted to move on from the subject. I wasn’t happy with where it was going though.

A stumbling request that Alexander pick slipped out of my mouth at top speed, trailing off at the end in askance.

Like I said, not good at the whole let’s-make-a-plan business. The only times Father ever let me suggest something (rarely), he did only to shoot me down, laugh at some flaw, and punch me in the gut “playfully” for such a bullshit recommendation.

Suggesting we eat while walking, Alexander looped his arm over my shoulders, and I tensed automatically.

Then I realized it was just Alexander and forced myself to relax.  _ Bad time buddy. I was in the middle of thinking about my dad. _

Then I caught myself.  _ Just _ Alexander? It was  _ Alexander! Alexander  _  had his arm around  _ me! _

I blushed lightly, but it deepened with every moment that he didn’t remove his arm. He had let it go limp, probably sensing my fear…  _ How sweet _ .  _ Shhhh, shhh! _ He wasn’t being gay. Arm around the shoulders was a bro thing: I’d seen straight guys do it all the time.

“Let’s head to the assembly room,” Alexander recommended gently, warmth and comfort soaked in his voice. His arm was still around me.

I used to do that too, before Father found out I was gay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, as always!


	8. The Happiest Place on Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go to the wonderful, wonderful library. They are very happy, because libraries are wonderful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the chapter's a bit short.

\---John’s POV---

We went around to the assembly room, Alexander stunning me  _ again _ with his speaking, and how comfortable he looked as he spoke.

Clearly, it calmed him down. Talking for him was like turtles for me.

I was used to people asking me why I eat so fast, but Alexander inhaled his sandwich as fast as I did. I ate quickly out of habit, because I had to. Father often would take my food after a couple minutes.  _ Done? Ok, we’ll give the rest to the other pigs. _

He thought eating slow was dainty. He thought dainty was feminine. He thought feminine was gay. May I just point out that that’s not how gay works. Your  _ sexuality _ has nothing to do with your  _ masculinity _ . Honestly. Sometimes I thought that he just came up with these ridiculous notions just to hurt me more. Though he said he was trying to prevent me from being gay, sometimes I felt like it was more for him to shoot me down.  _ You’re gay. That’s wrong.  _ Over and over in every irrelevant detail of life.  _ If you were straight, I’d let you do this. _

I wondered if Alexander had a reason he ate so quickly, with no thought to it. Did his habit have a story like mine?

Soon, we had finished with both the assembly room and our lunches. The kids still had a bit of time before their lunch ended and they were let out to recess.

“We’ll go to the happiest place on earth,” Alexander resolved.

I blinked, lost. “Disneyland?”

“Oh, dear me, no.” Sniffed Alexander properly. “The library.”

“‘The happiest place on earth,’” I quoted incredulously.

Alexander looked highly offended,  “ _ Yes. _ ”

To be perfectly honest, I loved libraries. Full of books, peaceful silence, and the comfortable knowledge that you could be a bit nerdy and no one there would mind.

“Sure,” I shrugged, nonchalant. Then, realizing I’d automatically filtered out all the eagerness I was feeling, I pulled off what I could of my mask of indifference. “Yeah, that would be great!”

Surprised but gratified by my sudden change of heart, Alexander lead the way. I tried to form a vague map in my head as we went up and down stairs, turned corners, and stopped in front of a door marked “A”. If there was one thing I wanted to remember, it was the library.

I couldn’t remember the last time I was able to curl up and read a book. Since the assembly room was near the door to the yard, I repeated the directions under my breath: “up up, down down, left, right, A” I murmured as we entered the library.

I caught my breath.

A tentative smile tugging the ends of his mouth, Alexander watched me, gaging my reaction.

Probably reaching the height of two normal floors, the walls reached up. They were bookshelves all the way to the ceiling, sliding ladders peppered the walls, and the bookshelves brimmed with books.

Organized immaculately by genre and author, I saw nonfiction sections: Politics, crammed with books criticizing Trump’s presidency, science, sprinkled with proof of global warming, famous people with a large number of books about monumental black, brown, and LGBTQI+ and female achievers. I saw fiction, the teen, chindrens and adult showered with romance of all sexualities, genders, and lack thereof.

It was undoubtedly the most liberal library I’d ever seen, a far cry from the books I’d read at home. Father had me read straight romance, books about “how to be a man”, “how to get over your homosexual attractions, etc.. He was seriously obsessed.

Father’s books told me it wasn’t good for men to cry, but I honestly couldn’t help it. A single tear welled out of my eye as I gazed around in wonder.

Alexander gave me a shy smile as he carefully brushed my tear away with the sleeve of his sweater. “What do you think?” he whispered softly, his voice laced with pride.

A smile broke through and I looked at him through wet lashes. “It’s beautiful.” I croaked.

He beamed a smile of pure joy and I returned it. Seeing him so happy made me even happier.

The library was truly the happiest place on earth.

 

\---Alex’s POV---

John was so happy in the library. I took his hand blushingly and led him to a soft loveseat, and he was content to sit there and gaze in wonder at the books that surrounded him. He twisted in his seat, looking from wall to wall to the shelves that stood in the middle area of the room, to the chairs piled with books.

He soaked it all in, and I sat beside him, breathing, swimming, living in his happiness. The clock signalled lunch time was over but he was so at peace that I was loathe to disturb him. 

John glanced at me as the bell rang, and we shared a soft smile, bathed in the sunlight from the stained glass ceiling.

It was the shouts of children playing outside that finally brought us back down to earth.

Breaking the gentle silence that had enveloped us since he’d told me the library was beautiful, I got up and offered my hand. “Shall we?”

John’s comforted smiled switched to a grin and he took my hand, declaring impishly, “We shall.”

I pulled him up steadily, sure not to do anything sudden or forceful. A clear voice rang out as we stepped towards the door, “You boys aren’t planning to check anything out, I presume?”

“Er, no, Cynthia,” I replied, knowing she’d hate me for it, “we just came to admire your collection. I awkwardly removed my hand from John’s and it immediately felt useless.

“He was showing me the library,” John informed her in a friendly tone. “It’s a truly amazing one, Ms. …. Um-”

“Murphy, Mrs. Murphy,” She finished kindly. “I see. Well and what are you teaching?”

Eyes lighting up, John smiled widely. “Art.”

Cynthia repeated, “Art.” She eyed him curiously. “They haven’t gotten a new science teacher yet?”

“Oh,” said John simply. “Yeah, science too.” He added this as an afterthought. John shrugged and waved goodbye. “See ya later Mrs. Murphy!”

I inwardly marveled at his seemingly effortless, easy going manner. The kids were going to love him.

“Wait,” John requested tentatively as I started to walk, “let me see if I can find my way out to the yard.”

To my surprise and his obvious delight, he did! “Good job,” I congratulated him, “you pick things up so quickly!”

John looked like Philip after I’d hande him a perfect test. Something told me praise was not a common thing in his life.

I had no idea why. This guy was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The library is the happiest place on Earth, no lie. Who agrees with me?


	9. Philip the Poet & Photograph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a small bit of sadness, I wouldn't call it angst... They meet Philip and go to their dorm, where Alex is struck (figuratively) by picture of John's mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REFERENCE TO DEATH. Important person, but not really a present character because their already dead. I like the sentiment in this chapter, enjoy!

\---John’s POV---

Alexander pointed to yet another kid, adding to the names already swirling around in my head: Chloe, Jenna, Brooke, Christine, Jake, Rich… There was another… Dustin…

“That one,” I looked where he was pointing, “African American, glasses, braids, really good posture?”

I saw her, playing with another girl. They were about 11 as well. “I see her,” I confirmed.

“She’s always top of the class, very cheerful, outgoing, excited to meet everyone. The girl she’s playing with is Zoe, who’s a bit artsy in her own way. She’s a bit funky, see all those bracelets she has?”

I did, she was very colorful, mostly pinks and oranges, like a sunset. Her wrist was circled with junky bracelets of thread, plastic beads, yarn, and other summer-camp-type things. “Yeah,” I noted, “I like her.”

I ran my finger over the inside of my wrist, tracing the hypothetical bracelets on my own arm, stopping quickly when I caught Alexander flinch in the corner of my eye. I glanced at his arms, but they were clothed by his long sleeved sweater.

Alexander quirked a quick smile. “Yes, I’m sure you will. She’s very blunt sometimes, but it’s nice to have such an honest voice. Our whole staff has a little bet going on Alana and Zoe… I think Zoe’s gonna make the first move…” Trailing off, he glanced at me, a somewhat guarded expression holding his features.

“I’ll give it a few days before I put my money down,” I decided with a laugh, “but I suppose you’re a good of a judge as any.”

As relief spread across his face, it occured to me that he might’ve been afraid I wouldn’t be comfortable with lesbian kids.  _ Chillax dude, _ I wanted to say,  _ I’m gay. _

“Jared and Evan you’ve met,” Alexander reminded me, gesturing in the direction of the two boys, who were currently climbing a small tree.

“Evan had anxiety and rambles a lot, but he’s truly the sweetest child you’ll ever meet. He’s actually not an orphan; his mother is the orphanage nurse, so he goes here. Jared is in love with memes, musicals, bath bombs, and Evan. He’s extremely funny and sometimes seems like an asshole but I promise he isn’t…” Alexander smiled proudly as Jared pretended to need help climbing. Evan reached out immediately and neither let go for several moments.

Alexander turned slowly, scanning the green yard for more kids to point out.

“Theodore,” He exclaimed suddenly, pointing to a young African American boy with a thick book in his hand, “quiet, a bit shy, very kind, and very smart.”

I liked him too.

A boy with freckles, green eyes, and a thick ponytail of curls just like mine bounded past us in a green T-shirt. I was speechless at the resemblance.

Alexander called him over, waving a hand, “Philip! Come meet your future self!”

Philip bounced over, eyes wide, giggling. I smiled down at him. “You weren’t kidding,” I remarked, astonished, to Alexander. “He looks just like me.”

“This,” Alexander declared grandly, “is Philip. Top of most of his classes, in love with turtles. He’s completely a ball of energy all day.”

Not the slightest bit shy, Philip chanted, thinking on his toes:

“My name is Philip,

I am a poet,

I wrote this poem just to show it,

And I just turned nine,

You can write rhymes but you can’t write mine!

I practice French and eat baguettes with Lafayette,

That guy looks like me but I haven’t met him yet.”

Scrambling to rhyme, Philip began varying the syllables and rhythm.

“I really am trying my best to rhyme,

At the end of each and every line,

But the scary truth is I’m flying blind,

And I’m making this up as I go!”

I spluttered, stunned. “You- how- was- did you make that up on the spot?” Wow, that was extremely impressive.

Philip giggled at my dumbstruck expression. “Who are you?” he asked bluntly.

I introduced myself haltingly, and Philip bounced off, delighted to be the first to meet the new teacher. “He’s incredible.” I remarked, awestruck.

Alexander agreed, “Now you know why he’s my favorite.”

“Yeah,” I replied, “he reminds me of you.”

“He- what!?” Alexander choked.

I blushed, looking at him through the corner of my eye. “He’s really smart, quick thinking and friendly…?” I was so afraid he’d throw it back in my face. I tensed, ready and waiting for some harsh retaliation.

Alexander blushed crimson. “Thanks… I think you’re awesome too.”

By the time the elegant bell sounded the end of recess, we were both  blushing messes and grinning like idiots.

 

\---Alex’s POV---

As John and I headed up to the dorms, John leading the way, I tried to cool down.

_ Get out butterflies.  _ I scolded to my stomach.  _ Go sip some nectar _ . The fluttered a bit defiantly.

_ He said you were smart! Friendly! Quick thinking! _ They fluttered more. I gazed up at John, striding ahead of me as he endeavored to find his way alone.  _ He blushed! _ They took flight. I blushed a bit in recollection, and of course John chose that moment to turn around.

Glancing at me hopelessly, he asked in defeat, “Which way again?”

Hurriedly answering, “Right,” I told my face to cool down. It followed instructions as well as the butterflies. “You got pretty far though,” I encouragingly remarked. “It’s just down this hallway.”

Looking a bit helpless, John counted off the doors as we passed. “1791…”

The soft gray carpet muted our footsteps as we padded along, the numbers decreasing. “1781…”

John strode confidently to our dorm, reading triumphantly: “1776!” His grin said  _ maybe I can do this! _ as I congratulated him.

“What’s the passcode?” John apprehensively glanced at the keypad on our door, while keys with black numbers on metal.

“5-29-51,” I recited easily with a soft smirk at his panicked expression. “You would also use your key, the code’s just in case you lose your key or don’t want to use it. People only use the passcode if it’s more convenient for them.”

He nodded, then requested nervously, “Could you write that down? Just ‘till I’ve got it down.”

Pulling out a notepad and pencil that doubled as a pen- I always kept both just in case- I quickly jotted down 5-29-51. 

I paused, pencil hovering over the paper. I felt John’s eyes on me, probably wondering why I was hesitating. I made a decision.

I bit my lip viciously, scribbled down my number so fast you’d be worried he couldn’t read it (but my handwriting is impeccable), shoved it in his hand, mumbling, “Here,” leaned over, punched in 5-29-51 at top speed, threw open the door to the dorm, and stumbled in. I looked back at John, who looked momentarily thrown due to surprise at my abrupt speed.

He probably hadn’t looked at my number yet, and I did  _ not _ want to have to look him in the eye when he told me it was gay to blush madly while giving a guy your number. Especially when all he asked for was the passcode.  _ To your dorm…  _ I thought unnecessarily. We were roommates, dammit!

Recovering, he eyed, the slip of paper. I could see my hurried handwriting swirling across the pale paper like calligraphy in graphite. It was unquestionably,  _ irrevocably _ readable.  _ Shit _ .

I blurted, “I’ll be in the bathroom,” with panic and dashed in. As I was about to slam it, I realized people who flinched at physical contact probably didn’t have nice memories about loud, slamming doors.

I closed it gently, hearing barely a click.

Face burning, I whipped around, my back towards the door as if it could lessen my embarrassment if I wasn’t facing John, even through the door.

_ Knock, knock, knock, knock. _ I didn’t need to go, I just needed to cool my face. I’d be out soon.

“Hey, Alexander…” I heard John’s muffled voice through the wood of the door. I nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see me, but he continued nonetheless. “Is this… your phone number?”

Running his voice through my mind, I analyzed it for malice, sarcasm, disgust, mockery, or weirded-outness. I came up empty. All I heard was uncertainty, bewilderment, caution, and… hopefulness?

“Yeah,” I replied clearly, attempting to sound casual. My voice was steady! Praise the Lord! My heart, on the other hand, was not.

“Wow dude, thanks! I’ll enter it right now!” John’s voice exclaimed, fizzy with happiness.

I sagged with relief as my cheeks caught fire.  _ Dammit, I can’t walk out of here looking like a tomato! _ I whisper-screamed in my head. How bad was it?

I looked in the mirror, and the present was clearer: there was no denying I was just  as red as a goddamn firetruck.

_ Splash, splash, splash, splash, _ I threw some water in my face, and I was in a better place.

I dried my sufficiently cooled face. Crisis resolved, stepped out of the bathroom and set about neatening the dorm, musing over why I’d created such an intensely awkward moment over a phone number situation. No one else had ever made me so frantic or nervous.

He put his clothes into drawers and the closet, which I rearranged to accommodate him. He placed a light, pile of books, a notebook, pencil, and framed picture of what must of been his mother on what became his side of the desk.

Beautiful green eyes and the same curly hair… I gazed at the picture as I cleared a space for him. Her smile was genuine, her joy was open and true, as tangible as the uncurling leaves of a fern in early spring. But it wasn’t glowing. It wasn’t a bright, sunny smile, like the petals of an orange California poppy. There was a hint of sadness in her eyes that reminded me of  _ my _ mother-  _ no!  _ I thought fiercely. My eyes prickled painfully.  _ Don’t you dare start crying. _ I wouldn’t. Not in front of John.

Blinking aggressively, I moved to another part of the room. I notice John’s figure untense as I made no comment on the picture. Maybe, like my mother, something had happened to her. From the way he moved to turn the picture face down when he thought I wasn’t looking, Jon didn’t want to talk about it.

I would avoid the subject of family. After all, I didn’t want to talk about-  _ no. _ I wasn’t going to think of her right now.

I took a deep breath in and out. We finished organizing the dorm with no event.

Still, I couldn’t help wondering about the woman in the photo. Why was she sad? Her eyes betrayed an aching hardship and yet her smile wa real. I knew she must be strong, to smile after or during whatever she had gone or was going through. I knew she’d gone through a lot.

As her face swam through my mind, I realized I knew her smile. It was the smile you wore when you had to suffer, but you were happy because your suffering set someone free. You got to step back and let the person you loved rise, shine, and grow. But to let them grow you had to let them go.

_ I know that smile, _ I realized as I stepped into the bathroom, closing the door softly behind me.  _ I’ve seen it in my dreams. _ A single tear traced an arching path down my cheek as I finally let the memories take me.

I knew that smile. It was the smile my mother gave me when she died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think of that one...?


	10. A Chapter with a Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go to a chill party, and then John heads to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My chapter naming skills suck, pay no mind.

\---Alex’s POV---

I introduced John to my friends, I could tell they like him. Of course they did, who wouldn’t? When I told him about Laf and Herc I knew he was shocked by my nonchalance. I was bringing out the Slytherin in me, slyly watching his reaction. He was surprised, but not disgusted or scandalized. If anything, he seemed a bit wistful, especially when I told him about them being open. I let myself hope a little.

It was when we got to Angelica’s that disaster struck. They were going along fine until she asked where his family was from.

“North Carolina,” John had said, as he told me. Unlike me, I deduced, it wasn’t the  _ where _ but the  _ who _ that disturbed him. His family must’ve been a touchy subject. I saw the muscles in his arm tense subtly, but I was too worried about  _ him _ to think about his body. Mostly. 

Obviously not noticing John’s clear discomfort, Angelica continued on the same line of conversation and John got paler by the second, eyes clouding with pain and fear. By the time I got him out of the room he was trembling and pale as a ghost. He was taking fast, shallow breaths and I tried my best to comfort him, doing exactly what I wished someone would do for me when a storm hit.

I even hugged him, though softly and in every way weak so that he could shove me across the hallway of he wanted. He didn’t.  _ He let me hug him _ .

Even now, as John was feeling fine again and we were heading to Herc’s dorm, 3 hours after the Angie incident, I couldn’t get over that. He let me hug him. He laid his forehead on my shoulder. 

The butterflies were going berserk.

“Hey guys, how’s it going?” Herc opened the door when I knocked, revealing a room of people, Laf, Her, James M., Eliza, Maria, Peggy, Angie, and Sally, who never lost a chance to thank me about Jefferson. I think she felt bad about “not being able to repay” me.

“Good,” I replied typically, and John murmured in assent. If he didn’t want to mention earlier today, neither would I.

“Dinner is always a bunch of random stuff.” I told John. “Laf always brings baguettes, James always brings mac and cheese, I order pizza because I-I just, I don’t like cooking…” Mostly because it reminded me of when I was alone on Nevis, providing for myself, but I didn’t say so. 

“The rest of us just bring whatever we feel like bringing.” Angie finished for me.

John looked a little lost but was never the less glowing as he looked around the room. “So many people…” me murmured. I was a bit confused. Hadn’t he encountered this and much more in college? I had and I almost never went to parties; I was too busy studying and writing papers.

Giving one of his bright smiles, he waved around the room awkwardly. “Er, hey everybody.” He greeted as people looked at him curiously.

Gently tugging John around the room, I was extremely thankful that people were tactful enough not to pepper him with questions the second he was within ten feet. He already appeared a bit overwhelmed; maybe he was used to smaller groups of people. In any case, he seemed to have a couple of sensitive subjects. Almost half as many as me, which is a lot.

As John got more comfortable with everyone, I drifted away from him for some human interaction with other people. I wandered over to James cautiously. I was determined to have a civil conversation, but if he gave me bullshit, I’d bite back.

“Hey Alex,” James spoke mildly and smiled with a friendly gesture, but there was an almost imperceptible sharp edge in his voice and a stabbing shard of ice in his gaze. I didn’t know why we fought so much; he was actually a pretty decent guy, but his association with Jefferson pegged him against me.

“No Jeff- er, Thomas tonight?” I had the same gentle chill to my voice and my sneer was barely hidden as I spoke my nemesis's name. James shifted warningly but didn’t pick a fight.

“He decided to stay home.” replied James blandly, looking uncomfortable. “Or, well…” He bit his lip, “We decided it might be best for you,” He indicated everyone in the room but looked pointedly at me, “if he, uh, didn’t come.”

Shocked both by this decision and James’ transparency on the matter, I was unsure how to respond. Immediately retracting all coldness from my voice, I weakly replied, “That’s kind of unfair to him. Maybe we can arrange something so we can alternate parties? I don’t want to be the reason Jeffer-Thomas…” I trailed off, but James seemed to understand what I was trying to say. If Jefferson was actually going to be responsible about the fights we always managed to pick, it was only right that I did the same.  _ Is missing all the fun _ I was going to say, but I knew I’d come off as sarcastic. I wasn’t even sure if I’d genuinely mean it myself.

He smiled and I knew he understood. “That would be great,” he breathed with true warmth. Jeffershit didn’t deserve someone like this.

“Hey,” John materialized behind me holding a can of soda. I blinked. “I’m going to head back to our dorm if you don’t mind.” He sounded like he was asking permission.

“Whatever you feel like doing,” I responded.  _ Our dorm _ he’d said. Not  _ the  _ dorm.  _ Our  _ dorm. “Where the hell did you get Mountain Dew Red?”

“Home,” JOhn softly replied, looking very homesick. He stopped, realizing I was walking with him. “Oh, no, Alexander you should stay! Don’t leave because of me!”

_ Alexander. _ He still called me  _ Alexander _ . Jesus where was my mind? “Alex. Call me Alex,” I entreated warmly. “I was about to leave anyway.” I cursed myself for not coming up with a more believable protest.

He looked… afraid to contradict me, but managed to object, “No, Alexa-Alex. You weren’t.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“John smiled faintly. “I’ll be fine, really.” My heart twisted as I realized he thought I wanted to supervise him after his moment at Angie’s.

Trying to show that I trusted him, I playfully informed him, “If I don’t come back, I’ll be here. I might stay here all night.”

Something flickered in John’s eyes, which located Herc and Laf, laughing, red solo cups in their hands. “Not to do a threesome,” I shot out before I could stop myself. John choked on his Mountain Dew and blushed the same color as his soda. “Just as friends. We do that sometimes.”  _ What the fuck did I just say? _

Since there’s no real response to that, John merely nodded. “See you tomorrow morning then.” He slipped out the door.

“See you.”

\---John’s POV---

I loved how concerned Alex was about me. I’d been fighting the affectionate urge to call him Alex in my mind so to switch from  _ Alexander _ wasn’t really a hard habit to break.

I set the empty can on the small bedside table that had a charger, lamp, book, and clock on it. I wanted to keep the can, to remember my brother. Quietly, even though no one was there, I set the picture of Mother upright.

I was actually relieved Alex wasn’t here, despite the small twinge of disappointment in my gut. I wanted to sleep soundly and sweetly. I wanted to be able to completely relax, something I  _ definitely  _ wouldn’t be able to do sleeping in the same bed with a straight guy I was gay for.

Yes, the dorm only had one bed. Not that I was going to say anything about to Alex about that. I knew he’d ask for another bed as soon as he realized there was one bed for both of us.

For now, I’d sleep in his bed. I checked the lock on the door again and heard it click. I quickly flipped off the lights; if Alex did come back I’d tell him I just got out of bed and was going to turn the lights on. The pitch black was reassuring, as welcoming as the sharp silence of the empty dorm. I wasn’t afraid of the  _ silent _ dark. Father was as loud as they come. It was noisy dark that make me freak out.

Used to the dark, I changed quickly, my heart racing as my bruises touched the cool air. In my hurry to change I accidentally bumped my elbow on a bruise on my hip and hissed, which is about as loud as my reactions to pain will get. I froze instantly, terrified by the wild idea that someone would hear, open the door, and see my bruises.

I wouldn’t even hear them because my heart was far too loud for me to hear anything else. Finally unfreezing, I quickly finished changing and threw myself between the blankets of Alex’s bed for extra cover, even though my temperature was remarkably high.

Sighing into the dark, I let my body relax. I closed my eyes and let sleep steal me away to a land of turtles. A time and place where Mother was healthy, unharmed, and happy. And I thought about Alex. Of course. Alex pulled Father out of the dream picture.

The last of the dream I remember is him. Alex with his  _ Alex _ smile, intelligent eyes and hunger pang frame…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!! I love everyone who continues to read and everyone whose given kudos!! THANK YOU <3


	11. First day of Class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the next day!! Wooo hooo! So now there will be a bit faster plot, I hope.

\---Alex’s POV---

When I woke up, I blinked repeatedly at the bright sunlight streaming in from behind the French curtains on the windows. My eyes fell on Laf and Herc, curled adorably together on the other bed in the dorm, still sound asleep.

Smirking to myself, I grabbed my phone off the stand beside my bed and pulled out the charger they were kind enough to lend me. After a couple of adorkable photos, I slipped out of bed and checked my texts absentmindedly as I padded out the door after slipping on my shoes.

 

**HelplesslyBi:** Kevin’s all excited bc Nina flew in at 3am last night

**AndPeggy:** Bet Benny’s more excited {smirk face}

 

My eyes flickered to the white numbers at the top of my phone screen and I almost choked. 7:31?!?! Holy  _ fuck _ it was  _ late!  _  Within seconds I was out their dorm, down the hall in my dorm, getting a change of clothes out-

John.

John. Was. In. My. Bed. My mind began snickering about how gay that sentence sounded, but I just stared at John.

Corkscrew curls spread across the creamy white pillow, a rich, dark brown. A sweet, happy, innocent expression that was the facial expression embodiment of a cupcake. A splattering of freckles, light brown, that perfected his already perfect face, which was peachy white with enough color to not look ghostly or unhealthy.

He was so adorable, it hurt to look at him but I couldn’t stop.

His perfect, thick brown lashes fluttered and I snapped out of it, shooting off to the bathroom to shower, almost slipping on the gleaming white tiles in my haste.

By the time I exited the bathroom, after an excessively long moment of looking at myself in the mirror, John was up and dressed.

He was excited and nervous, I could tell. “Hey, classes at 9:00. We should unlock the bathroom, supply cabinets, and get coffee,” he said in a rush. He’d clearly been going over this in his head, scrolling through the list of things we needed to do. He immediately looked regretful at blurting this out. Why was he so uncomfortable with making decisions?

“Wow, you’re really on top of things,” I appraised him earnestly. “Let’s go.”

~shortest time skip ever~

“Alex!” I immediately identified the shriek and spun around, beaming.

“Nina!” I hugged her tightly, muttering, “We missed you!”

She smiled brightly, fixing the pencil behind her ear. “Missed you too. How’ve you all been?”

I waved her off impatiently. “Nevermind that. How was California? What’d you learn at Stanford? Are you staying with your parents or Benny?” At the last question she blushed and quickly changed the subject.

“Who’s this kid?” She gestured to John, who was standing slightly apart from us, looking undisturbed by the fact that he’d barely been noticed. Nina nudged me playfully as the three of us entered the coffee shop together. “Aleeex. Did you finally get a boyfriend?”

I lost all ability to speak and opened and closed my mouth wordlessly as my face took on the brightest red you’ve ever seen. Nina turned to John, who I refused to look at, but John didn’t seem capable of speaking either. Probably too shocked by the fact that I was gay. Well, bi, but he didn’t know that.

Nina introduced herself and went on to talk about how much she missed the coffee shop and Eliza and Maria, trying her best to counteract the extremely awkward vibes I couldn’t seem to stop sending.

I didn’t look at or speak to John until we were heading back to the orphanage. I forced myself to look him in the eye and pretend the comment was never said. “Hey, if you need anything I’m right next door.” I moved to give him a gentle push towards his classroom, but caught myself before he noticed.

John gave me a smile that looked a sliver forced. “You and Nina a thing?” he immediately looked horrified at himself for asking, and both embarrassed and relieved when I shook my head vehemently.

“She’s dating Benny, someone you haven’t met yet. They’re the sweetest straight couple you’ll ever encounter.” Oh, thank god he didn’t take Nina’s “boyfriend” remark seriously. “Why?” I asked, regretting it as soon as the words left my mouth. “Do you like her?”

“No!” John denied instantaneously. “I was just curious.”  _ I think he likes her _ . Poor guy. Nina and Benny would break up as soon as Eliza and Maria did. That being NEVER.

I would feel worse about John not having a chance except that part of me was happy because technically that would leave him available. Except that he’d be pining after someone else anyway.

I sent him a smile as we walked into our respective classrooms. “See you at lunch!”

Nodding with a nervous smile, he agreed quickly, “Sure thing!” I waited he was in his classroom before going into mine.

“Woo!” I sighed. “Back to the usual routine!” Striding into the classroom and clapping my hands, I greeted the new day. “Good morning, time to start the day!”

 

\---John’s POV---

I woke up to a sharp, insistent beeping and groggily opened my eyes. As I expected, Alex was not there, probably having spent the night at Lafayette and Hercules’ for the night. Flailing my arms, I felt my hand hit the smooth alarm clock and the beeping stopped, leaving my ears ringing just a bit. Of course Alex’s alarm would be a high, sharp beeping rather than a cheery song or something. Of course. I realized the room was barely lit by the faintest light and glanced at the time.

I did a double take. 4:45?!  _ Are you kidding me? _ No wonder I was so tired. I relaxed and let myself drift back to sleep.

_ Beep! Beep! Beep! Holy mother fucker. _ I had hit snooze. And of course, Alex’s snooze wasn’t set for 15 minutes. Or 10. Or even 5. Hell. This guy set his snooze for 1 minute. It was 4:46.  _ Fucking hell _ .

I carefully pressed the correct button and quickly fell asleep.

~~~

There were soft footsteps and I was a very light sleeper. My eyes popped open to see Alex walking into the bathroom with a change of clothes and a few minutes later I heard the shower start.

Not that I was thinking about Alex in the shower. At all.

Realizing I’d have to change clothes, I quickly did so before he could come back and see me. I wasn’t much of a perfectionist, but I really liked this place. I wanted to stay here, to get this right, to fit in and have a relatively normal life. I did  _ not _ want the pity of the people I had met.

Don’t get me wrong, they were wonderful people. I just didn’t want their friendship to be based on my bruises. I wanted their friendship to be based on  _ me. _

Plus I kinda didn’t really want to talk about it. Or think about it. I focused on my tasks for the day. Teach. That was a big one. Also, unlock the bathrooms. I chuckled softly to myself, remembering yesterday morning. It felt like ages ago.

There was something else Mr. Washington had mentioned… Supply cabinets. That was it. And we needed coffee. Don’t forget coffee. And lunch. I wondered what Alexander would have us do for lunch. Alex. God he was amazing.

As we swiftly went through the morning, I wondered about Alex and Nina. She was taken, so that was ok.

I turned to the class. “Hey, so can anybody tell me Newton’s first law?” As usual, Alana Beck’s hand rose like a shot. I wrote her answer on the board. “Second?” Alana. “Anyone other than Alana?” Alana retracted her hand, looking faintly put out.

Zoe took her hand and smiled, causing Alana to brighten, and I shot Zoe a grateful look. She grinned. Theodore raised his hand hesitantly. His quiet but confident voice answered, and I wrote that on the board as well.  Philip looked more proud than Theodore.

“Third?” I scanned the room for hands that weren’t Alana’s. Or Theodore’s. Or Philip’s. He’d already answered several questions eagerly and correctly. I looked directly at Jared, knowing he knew, but he just blinked at me lazily. From previous worksheets I knew he was actually a really smart kid. I sighed and moved on, gazing at the other kids. Oh! How about- “Evan Han-”

Jared’s hand shot up like a bullet and his hand was in the air before I could even blink in surprise. “Mr. Laurens,” he  drawled, a note of panic in his voice, “I know the answer.”

I raised my eyebrows, too surprised to say anything but an incredulous, “Mr. Kleinsen?”

“Kleinman,” Jared corrected briskly. “Every action has its equal opposite reaction.”

“Thank you, Jared Klein _ man _ .” I sent him a puzzled smile and wrote this on the board as well. Evan looked like Christmas had come early, and was beaming adorably at Jared, who looked back nonchalantly. Except that he was hardcore blushing at what might as well have been heart-eyes from Evan.

Soon class was over and the kids filed obediently out the door, chattering brightly. Jared approached my desk as I shuffled through papers, placing them in separate stacks on my mahogany desk.

“Mr. Laurens?” It was less of a question and more of a demand, the way when a teacher says, “May I have your attention please?” It is more of a “May I have your attention please.”

I looked up. “Yes Jared?”

“I was wondering,” Jared began steadily. He looked as deadpan and detached as ever but there was a small catch in his voice that made me think he cared more than he wanted to show about whatever he was talking to me about. “Would-  _ could _ you not call on Evan in class?”

Ah. This was about Evan. I raised and eyebrow suggestively, a motion most 11-year-olds would  _ not _ get, but I figured Jared would. He blushed a very bright red but continued on, determined. “He has anxiety and he gets really nervous when he has to speak in front of a lot of people…” Jared paused and watched me carefully, unsure if he should go on.

I reassured him with a smile. “I won’t call on him in class-” Jared looked immeasurably relieved. “-IF you participate.”

“Deal,” Jared agreed instantly, grinning. He really didn’t care about the sacrifice on his part, I realized. This was all about Evan. We shook hands and he saluted me as he walked out the door, looking triumphant.

I tried not to fanboy, but a small smile worked its way out as I thought about how cute they were. I walked out the door and leaned against the wall next to the door to Alex’s classroom, waiting for him to come out.

“Hey,” he greeted me excitedly, his face brightening as he spotted me. “How was your first day?”

“Awesome.” I replied earnestly, “The kids are so sweet and smart and friendly. Clearly, they have been raised well.”

Alex chuckled. “We try.”

“And my god,  _ Jared and Evan-! _ ”

“Oh my gosh, say no more,” Alex agreed, equally excited. “They’re just too-”

“ _ -Adorable, _ ” Alex said, “And sweet.”

“Cute!” I declared at the same time, “And perfect.” I added.

We split up: Alex went to grab us some lunch and I went to get us a table. Alex, who never learned to take his time, was off like a shot, leaving me to ponder what it would be like for Alex and I to be too “cute,” “adorable,” and “sweet.”

I imagined it would be perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading as always, LOVE YOU!!


	12. Philip, Laurens, and Math Class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phlilidosia at lunch and Angelica teaching Kleinsen and Zoelana.

\---Philip's POV---

"I can't believe it!"

"I know!"

"He looks so much like you!"

"I know!"

"I mean, the same hair and it curls the same way like," Theo swirled his pointer finger in tight spirals.

"I know."

"And eyes- you have green eyes too but it's like the same exact shade of green-!"

"I know." Theo was so blown away by this. I was a bit freaked. But he was really cute when he was too excited about something to be self conscious about showing it. It wasn't a common thing.

"Brilliant green. Like really piercing, forest green." I would not blush I would  _not_  blush... "Harry Potter green."

"I know..." he was such a Potterhead. I was too, really. Common ground. We had a lot of common ground.

"It's really pretty." Theo suddenly looked self conscious again, retreating back into himself. I didn't know what to say. I couldn't very well say  _I know_  to that. That would be self centered. Theo shyly picked up the subject again. "And freckles. So many freckles."

"I know."

"These adorable freckles all over your face, he has the same freckles, and like, all over his arms and you have them all over you..." Blushing fiercely, he opened his book and refused to look at me. Good. I was blushing just as much.

"I know..." I agreed vaguely, taking my lunch tray and breathing in appreciatively. He said my freckles were adorable. And the phrase  _all over you..._  Ah! Philip! Stop! I reached into my backpack and pulled out my journal, filled with thoughts, random poems. An thoughts about Theo.

When we sat down, I quietly jotted the cutest quotes of our latest conversation and then turned to less important pages, reading them to get my mind off of Theo.

I didn't really know my sexuality. But I think maybe I liked him... I shook my head. Ugh! Philip! Theo eyed my crêpe. "What'd you get?" she sniffed curiously.

"Nutella and raspberries. And a sandwich without tomatoes." I cut a slice off the corner of my crêpe and nibbled, sighing with content.

"Philip! Me too!" He shoved me gently, shaking his head. "You have such a sweet tooth!"

"Shoot." I gulped guiltily. "I thought you liked tomatoes?" He just gave me a look. I knew what he meant. Every day, one of us would get a ham and cheese and one of us would get a raspberries and nutella. I always got a sandwich without tomatoes, and he got one with tomatoes. The sandwiches were for ourselves but the crêpes we split, so everyday we'd each get half a raspberries and nutella and half a ham and cheese.

We alternated days. It was my day to get ham and cheese. "It's your fault!" I defended myself, "You distracted me! Talking about my eyes and freckles!" I blushed and stabbed my crêpe.

Theo sighed and bookmarked his page. He was very passionate about the abuse of books: he  _never_  dogeared pages. "Tomorrow we get two ham and cheese and then we can go back to alternating." he decided.

"Theo!" I gasped, I needed nutella! "I need my chocolate!"

"Tough." Theo laughed. "You don't even have to listen to me, I wouldn't be hurt if you ignored my system." He was so pretty when he laughed. His nose scrunched up a little and his laugh was  _twinkly_. He had freckles too, they were just far more subtle because of his darker skin.

I liked the subtlety. It was sweet. I knew he'd still be happy if we didn't use our system. I took a bite of my sandwich and chewed thoughtfully, reading my journal.

_Today Theo proposed this system for the_ _cr_ _êpes at lunch. He loves chocolate and wants to have some everyday. But he doesn't want to be unhealthy. He wants to split so we have half of each every day. He's so smart. I don't have a crush on him though. I'm just saying because he's really nice and..._

I smirked, swallowing my sandwich. "Nah," I told him with a smile, "We'll do double and and cheese tomorrow." **  
**

 

\---Angelica’s POV---

Afternoon. Honestly, these kids weren’t even that bad. I mean really, it was all just Jared. I didn’t even know how an eleven year old kid could be awesome and  _too much_  at eleven years old.

This kid did it.

“Jared, can you  _please_  stop talking to Evan. I’m trying to show you the order of operations.” I didn’t even attempt to keep the exasperation out of my voice.

“Oh, don’t bother, I already know it.” Jared didn’t even turn around.

“Evan?” I prompted gently. I didn’t want to freak him out.

“Y-yeah Miss. Schuyler. He, Jared does. He knows, well Jared, Jared knows a lot of math.” Evan seconded nervously. Jared blushed.

I groaned, “No, Evan, can you tell Jared-”

“Oh, oh, yes, yeah I-I can. Can you, Jared, could you, uh, could you maybe talk to me, to me later? Right now, now we should let, let Miss Schuyler t-teach.” Oh my god, I loved Evan. He was so  _sweet_.

Jared sat back immediately and made the sort of gesture men do when they open the door that is sort of a condescending  _ladies first_. “Pardon me, miss. You were saying?”

I gritted my teeth and continued with the lesson, glaring at Jared whenever he made a sarcastic comment. Which was just about half the lesson.

I swore, though, I loved those kids. Jared just gave them all a bad name. The most irritating thing was that he was really smart. He finished first so he was technically allowed to interact with anyone who was also done until we started something new. But he finished so quickly it usually took less than 5 minutes before the classroom was filled with Jared’s deapan flirting and Evan’s shy, admiring responses as everyone else worked in silence, trying to pretend they didn’t hear the oblivious couple.

Glancing at the time, I realized there was only ten minutes left before the end of class. I clapped my hands for attention. Jared applauded hardcore.

“Your class has been to Mr. Laurens’ class right?” I knew they had but I waited for the murmurs of assent before I continued, “You are each getting about 5 dollars, and we’ll go to the store one of these afternoons so you can get him a little welcome gift. I recommend you consider what you might want to purchase beforehand because you will only have a few minutes. I still plan to make educational use of the day.”

“”Pffft, easy. Get him lunch. Subway or McDonalds. Fast, easy, cheap.”

I threw Jared a withering look and dismissed the class.

“But- the bell hasn’t rung yet Miss-” Alana Beck, too eager. _You’re gonna be teased for that one._  I felt a small twinge of pity.

“Miss Beck, who-” I stopped to glare at Jared, clenching my fists from behind my desk. In a perfect impression of me, he said exactly what I was saying, although I stopped at “who” when I realized he was speaking with me.

He continued, “Miss Beck, who dismisses the class? Me or the bell?” His pitch was mockingly high.

God. If he ever died, I would sing no requiem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for continuing to read! The plot speeds up soon.


	13. Lunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They eat lunch together and accidentally stumble upon several sensitive topics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this goes well. I am SO sorry for not updating. I put the chapters up on Wattpad, and I didn't even realize they weren't here.

\---Alex’s POV---

I flipped on the air conditioning as I walked in, carrying lunch. John was sitting at a small round table with cushy chairs around it. Handing John his lunch tray, I asked quickly if the food was okay.

“Oh, yeah, better than okay. I don’t eat food this good often.” he responded gratefully, taking a large bite out of his sandwich.

“No? Is your family- er-” I wasn’t certain how to put  _ is your family poor _ delicately.

John’s expression darkened and I remembered belatedly not to talk about his family. “No, we’re just, I mean our servants could cook but my mother-” he broke off and stared at his sandwich.

“Nevermind,” I interjected hastily, deciding food quality was not a very beneficial subject to pursue. John had already mindlessly devoured half of his croissant sandwich. Scrambling for something to say, I inquired, “how’d you eat your sandwich so fast?”

Bad idea. John flinched and flicked his eyes up fearfully at me through his eyelashes.  _ Shit. _ Another masterful attempt ends with disaster. What was it about food that he couldn’t talk about? Maybe it was best to avoid food period.

“You ate just as fast,” he pointed out defensively.

I blinked. I had. It was such a normal thing for me I hadn’t even realized, a habit originating from when I was young. When my biological father left us barely any money, we were often driven to theft, devouring food as soon as we stole it so as not to get caught with it in our hands. Later food became so scarce for me that I often ate it quickly because I couldn’t help it. After that I ate quickly because the faster I ate, the more time I had to work, the more time I had to work, the more I’d get paid. It was a key part of surviving on your own. I was on my own, when I was 12 my mother-  _ Fuck. _ Not now for heaven’s sake.

“Guess I’m hungry today,” I explained finally. It rang so false, Evan would be able to tell it was a lie. John didn’t question it. Thank heaven for his understanding. Desperate to change the subject, I remarked, “I’m glad we’re eating inside. It’s a bit too hot today to be outside, although I’ll take sun any day.”  _ Over a storm. _ Anyday.

John sent me a queer look and suggested hesitantly, “If you’re hot you could take off your sweater.” Right. So that was something I probably shouldn’t have brought up. 

I fought the urge to absentmindedly trace my needle thin scars, straighter than anyone I knew, on the inside of my wrist. I suddenly felt like a freak, my skin crawling. “I’m- I’d rather not. I’m not hot.” I lied hopelessly.

“Alex, I-” John looked alarmed at overstepping my barriers.

“I’m fine.” I cut him off sharply, flinching at the sound of my harsh voice in the air. The coldness in my voice wasn’t the crispness of winter air, it was the bone aching cold of a storm-

I pushed away from the table abruptly and hurried out the door. Muttering something about rounding up the kids, I got the hell out of there.

 

\---John’s POV---

It was lunch. All the kids except for the really little ones were in the cafeteria right now. There was no one for him to round up. And the lunch bell wouldn’t ring for several minutes.

Obviously, he had left to escape our conversation. In other words, he’d left to escape  _ me _ . Well fudge. I didn’t want to be clingy or annoying, so I stayed in my seat, sinking into it as I leaned into the soft cushions.

He’d asked about my family and cooking, which brought memories of Father preventing me from cooking (forcefully) to Mother having to cook, usually too hurt to prepare any advanced foods. Then he mentioned how fast I ate, which I pushed back at him in alarm. To my utter relief, confusion, and dismay, _ he _ stopped stumbling into  _ my  _ trigger subject and  _ I _ began to trip past  _ his _ boundaries.

I told he ate fast, which he reacted badly to. Then he said he liked eating inside because it was hot out and I told him he could take off his sweater. Believe me, I was not a stranger to qualms about taking off clothes. Blame Father. Not only for the bruises, sometimes he did  _ worse _ . But long sleeves? It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he had cut at some point.

I wanted to mend the conversation, take back what I said, or somehow make up for how upset I’d made him. But before I could say anything Alex was gone.

The bell rang, sounding much more mournful than it did this morning. I mindlessly ran through the names and faced Alex had pointed out yesterday during recess. Standing up slowly, I picked up my lunch tray and sighed, picking up Alex’s as well. His ham and cheese  cr êpe was untouched.

Sulking a bit, I went to my classroom and taught the rest of the afternoon with a lot less cheer than I had this morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, my apologies for getting the chapter out late. I'll post another Friday, and another Sunday to catch up to where I am at publishing on Wattpad so you aren't spammed with chapters (because we all know these are terrible), but they get back on the same track.


	14. Group Chat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically a bunch of petulance on all sides- teachers are finally free after a long day at school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like it, I've never really approached the idea of a group chat before, but I thought it would be a pretty plausible thing for a bunch of teachers that live at or near the same orphanage, are all friends, and hang out all the time.

\---Alex’s POV---

Class, as usual, was only vaguely entertaining. Although I did love the subjects I taught, teaching them could be tiresome, to say the least. Might I just say that the kids can get rather out of hand? And don’t get me wrong, I loved the musical to bits, but Miranda did no cover all of history. Why did kids think memorizing the soundtrack was going to pass them?

And I couldn’t stop thinking about John. I slightly regretted leaving acutely. I let my thoughts  tangent and ended up reflecting upon my childhood, so it was necessary for me to make a quick exit, but it was, regardless, rather unfriendly of me.

I was relieved when the four o’clock bell rung to signal the end of mandatory educational classes. Breathing out a sigh, I organized my cluttered but neat desk until it was immaculately set. I leaned back in my swivel chair and spun in slow, lazy circles as I pulled out my phone. The afterschool texting flurry had already begun.

**NeverSatisfied:** Do u wanna hang?

**HelplesslyBi:** Sure, we’d love to

**Staayyy:** Baby, don’t answer for me

**Staayyy:** I’d love to

**AndPeggy:** Only if we don’t get coupley

**NeverSatisfied:** Yes, no dopey lovey dovey.

**Staayyy:** Well fuck u too

**GunsAndBaguettes:** In France we believe in peace and love

**LockUpYourHorses:** The fuck

**GunsAndBaguettes:** And we don’t spew curses

**LockUpYourHorses:** Then u really don’t fit in there do u

**NeverSatisfied:** Question mark

**GunsAndBaguettes:** Pardon?

**AndPeggy:** FIGHT

**LockUpYourHorses:** I’d win

**GunsAndBaguettes:** PARDON?

**LockUpYourHorses:** Stronger

**GunsAndBaguettes:** Cannot you form full sentences? I’m the immigrant here

**AndPeggy:** FIGHT

**GunsAndBaguettes:** I’d win

**LockUpYourHorses:** Nope

**GunsAndBaguettes:** I am faster and more agile than Herc

**NeverSatisfied:** Whoa, full sentences, impressive.

**LockUpYourHorses:** Oh hi Angie, I forgot about u

**AndPeggy:** OUCH

**NeverSatisfied:** I will not dignify schoolyard taunts with a response

**AndPeggy:** OOOOH

I checked my watch: 4:15. How did they text so much?  _ Why _ did they text so much? They could literally step out of their respective classrooms and engage in verbal conversations in the hallway. Well, except for Maria, Eliza, and Peggy. I sighed and continued following the unfolding conversation in silence.

**HelplesslyBi:** Peggy, why r u such an instigator?

**AndPeggy:** Is that an INSULT?

**Staayyy:** That’s going TOO FAR, honey. NO ONE fights with Liza, she’s to precious

**AndPeggy:** R U CHALLENGING ME

**NeverSatisfied:** Question mark

**AndPeggy:** We r texing. U wanna fight?

**GunsAndBaguettes:** In France we believe in peace and love

**NeverSatisfied:** Well in America it appears we do not.

**GunsAndBaguettes:** WHY NOT

**NeverSatisfied:** Question mark

**HelplesslyBi:** Ask Trump

**LockUpYourHorses:** Fuck Trump

**GunsAndBaguettes:** I’d rather not

**HelplesslyBi:** Eeewwwww Laf!

**Staayyy:** U have harmed my bby’s innocence.

**Staayyy:** Prepare to DIE

**AndPeggy:** FIGHT

**GunsAndBaguettes:** Lets go

**Staayyy:** *cocks gun* the duel will commence after we count to ten

**GunsAndBaguettes:** I thought u liked pussy

**Staayyy:** BITCH I’M BI

**AndPeggy:** Them’s fightin words

**LockUpYourHorses:** Whos counting to ten

**NeverSatisfied:** Apostrophe, question mark

I snickered, watching the group chat spiral out of control, the hangout forgotten. They decided to count popcorn style, which I knew wasn’t going to work. I sat back and watched, amused and somewhat cheered up. I grinned.  _ They will tear each other to into pieces, Jesus Christ, this will be fun.I _

**LockUpYourHorses:** ONE

**AndPeggy:** tWo

**GunsAndBaguettes:** THREE

**LockUpYourHorses:** Three

**NeverSatisfied:** Caps or capitalize the first letter

**GunsAndBaguettes:** Bitch 3 was my number

**LockUpYourHorses:** I did!

**AndPeggy:** FoUR

**NeverSatisfied:** I was talking to Peggy.

**GunsAndBaguettes:** FIVE

**LockUpYourHorses:** Five

**GunsAndBaguettes:** BITCH

**LockUpYourHorses:** I thought u were attracted to males

**AndPeggy:** OooOOoOo

**NeverSatisfied:** Caps or capitalize the first letter

**GunsAndBaguettes:** The duels about to be between me and Herc

**NeverSatisfied:** Apostrophe

**Staayyy:** Ok, SIX

**AndPeggy:** U gonna break up first

**AndPeggy:** Angie, you happy?

**NeverSatisfied:** Question mark

**HelplesslyBi:** Y do u want everyone to be sad, Peggy?

**Staayyy:** She will never be satisfied, Peggy

**NeverSatisfied:** Thank the both of you for grammar and addressing your messages.

**AndPeggy:** Your to proper

**NeverSatisfied:** You’re too proper.

**AndPeggy:** Am not!

**GunsAndBaguettes:** SEVEN

**GunsAndBaguettes:** Don’t u dare

**LockUpYourHorses:** Seven

**GunsAndBaguettes:** *Shoots Herc early*

**AndPeggy:** Blood, blood, blood, and DEATH

**A-L-E-X-A-N-D-E-R:** So about hanging out… 

**Staayyy:** ALEX

**AndPeggy:** how lONg hAvE yOU bEeN sILenTLy JUdGinG uS

**A-L-E-X-A-N-D-E-R:** Caps or capitalize the first letter and question mark, Peggy

**AndPeggy:** Now we have an even bigger grammar nerd in the house. Fuck

**A-L-E-X-A-N-D-E-R:** Watch your language, Peggy.

**AndPeggy:** Youre use of . in txt is MOcking my sOul

**A-L-E-X-A-N-D-E-R:** Your, period,text, all caps or only caps at the beginning of a sentence, Peggy.

I knew this was going to drive her crazy, but it also really bugged me to see things spelled wrong or the wrong your/you’re and there/their/they’re. I quickly texted John and added him to the group chat.

**RaiseAGlassToTurtles:** Hello everybody. Whose place are we hanging out at and when’s this happening?

His full sentences, punctuation, and civility was beautiful and notably refreshing.

**A-L-E-X-A-N-D-E-R:** It can be at our dorm if that’s okay with you… 

**RaiseAGlassToTurtles:** OK.

**NeverSatisfied:** When? Does 10 minutes sound good?

**AndPeggy:** See y’all bitches in 5

**A-L-E-X-A-N-D-E-R:** Language, Peggy: “See you in five.” However, if you must, then “see you bitches in five.” You can not write “see y’all bitches in five.” It doesn’t make sense. You are basically saying “See you all bitches in five”

My fingers flew as I typed. I was used to texting this fast, as I often indulged in explanations and arguments that were considerably detailed and thus I had to type quickly to get my point across before the conversation moved on.

**AndPeggy:** NO ONE ASKED FOR AN ESSAY

**A-L-E-X-A-N-D-E-R:** See all you bitches in five

Jumping out of the soft swivel chair, I closed the windows in the classroom and let down the shades so it wouldn’t get too hot inside, shutting off my phone and sticking it in the back pocket of my tight jeans as I jogged out the door, flipping off the classroom lights.

When I entered the dorm, John was sitting in a chair rolled away from the desk, thoughtfully contemplating the texts that I knew were coming in, rapid fire, from the dings that consistently sounded from my ass. I didn’t even want to see what people were writing. Uncertain what to adress after lunch with John, I flopped onto the bed.

“Tell me when they’re here,” I instructed him, and promptly shut my eyes, rolled over, and fell asleep.

~~~

I faded slowly into consciousness, aware of a low murmur of conversation. I recognised most of the subdued voices. Angie, Herc, that accent was definitely Laf’s. I caught John’s easy going voice, smooth and extroverted.

I was accustomed to hasty mornings and got out of bed quickly and stretched. “Hello.”

The circle of people turned quickly and John met my gaze sheepishly. “Wha- I told you to wake me up when they got here!” The exclamation held no anger.

“You said ‘ _ tell  _ me when they’re here.’ I told you. You were just such a deep sleeper that you didn’t hear me.” John protested.

“You knew what I meant!” I joined the circle of people, tucking a pencil behind my ear on the way.

“Plus,” John added defensively, “You do so much, I feel like you should sleep more.” He dipped his head slightly and shot me a shy look. My heart skipped a beat.

“Thanks mom,” I teased lightly with a grateful smile. “I feel marginally refreshed. What are we doing?” It was a disguised compliment that meant a lot more than he knew. I had loved my mother more than anyone in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading!!


	15. Hamilsquad Hangs Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Schuylers, Mullette, and Lams hang out. And Maria. They play exploding kittens because why not, and that's about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's short. And for the first time, only one person's POV the whole time. John's.

\---John’s POV---

Alex often had bags under his eyes, though he did send off a very energetic vibe. I was nervous Alex would be mad when he woke up, but I didn’t regret it: Alex needed sleep

Alex, though, wasn’t mad. He was fine with it. And looked even better well rested, unfortunately for me. I couldn’t stop looking at him.

Suggestions of gans were thrown around after Alex woke up, as rapid fire as their texting. I was still shell shocked by the sheer speed at which they attached each other virtually.

I mean, _crap_. Whoa. They were fast and furious as soon as the clock struck four and the bell rang. I figured this was actually a bit normal, I was just very socially cut off after I came out to my family. Which was just about the dumbest thing I’d ever done, seeing as Father was openly homophobic and already beat Mother for believing in “liberal bullshit”.

“Truth or dare,” Peggy suggested slyly, a wicked glint in her eye.

With all my trigger subjects and all the things I couldn’t do without thinking about Father, I preferred not to play games like that. Still, I didn’t want to be the person to ruin the fun, especially since this was practically my first impression for most of the group, so I kept my mouth shut.

“Nope,” Alexander vetoed from beside me, saving me. “No way José.” The group laughed too much and I realized it was probably another inside joke or something.

Peggy sighed resignedly. “Ok José.”

Elizabeth nudged her sister gently, poking her tan cheek. “Hey, you know Alex doesn’t like to play. Let’s get a nonpersonal game.” She smiled around at everyone and people nodded. I envied how easily she made peace between her friends. If I could do the same with Mother, Father, and I…

“Maybe…”

“Peggy, no.” Maria sounded firm, taking Elizabeth’s nad.

Peggy persisted, “If we don’t touch any trigger subjects, and, you know, just ask questions like ‘who’s your _best_ friend…”

I winced. I actually didn’t have any because Father kind of cut me off. They hired a private tutor for my college education so I wouldn’t start hanging out with any guys. Like, who does that?

“-And then it’ll be had Washington ever rescued you from hell, yeah, no.” Angelica’s sharp tongue cut the chatter like a knife.

 _What did she mean, “rescued from hell?_ ” For the first time, I wondered about what Alex had gone through. I had been able to tell he didn’t like to speak about where he came from, but I didn’t know why. And the fact that it was _Mr. Washington_ that helped him brought in a new possibility. What if Alex was an orphan?

Elizabeth came back with a small, dark red box with orange lettering.

“Exploding kittens?” Alexander, Peggy, and Angelica groaned in unison.

“Hey, I love kittens.” Maria pointed to the box. “‘A game for people who love kittens and explosions.’”

“I love explosions,” Lafayette offered.

Hercules snorted. “Babe-”

“Chill.” Lafayette shrugged him off and opened the box, dealing the cards.

They explained the rules to me, though it was very hard to understand with them talking over each other, making comments about the rules, and interrupting each other.

Finally, Alexander snapped loudly in the middle of the circle. “Guys, you’re worse that for Jared clones. This explanation is legitimately shit.”

“There’s more than four of us,” Hercules observed.

“Five points to Gryffindor for stating the obvious. John, basically, you draw a card from the pile in the center each turn. You might get an exploding kitten card, which will blow up and you’re out of the game. There is one way to counteract this, which is a defuse card. We all start with one defuse, and there’s a few more in the deck. If you defuse a kitten, you put the kitten back in the deck and the dfuse in the discard pile. The other cards you have tell you what they do on the card and are all for helping you avoid getting a kitten, like the skip, where you skip your turn and don’t have to risk drawing a kitten. If you have questions, you can ask me. The comical blurbs on each of the cards are of no concern, they are only there to provide humor.”

We began to play, and I caught on as we went, though I still exploded close to first. Peggy went first, me second, and the last three standing were Alexander, Angelica, and Elizabeth.

Alexander exploded. Then Angelica. Maria grinned and kissed Elizabeth, laughing.

Wow. What. I blinked. I totally thought they were both after Alex... clearly I couldn't be further from the truth. They liked girls (although they could be bi, pan, or anything) and they were  _together_. Oh wow. John. I couldn't help but feel esastic. Ok, I needed something to distract myself from this miracle of miracles before they caught me grinning stupidly at they newly revealed (to me anyway) couple.

I pulled out my phone. “Six o’clock guys.” Several heads snapped up.

“Shit.” Hercules jumped up, pulling Lafayette with him. “Marliza, let’s go.”

“Double date.” Maria replied to Angelica’s confused expression, hurrying out the door. “ _Someone_ accidentally booked 7:00 table.”

She looked at Hercules, who had the decency to look meek. “Sorry.”

“Seven o’clock is a reasonable time,” Alex said, voicing my thoughts.

“It is and hour and a half away because he didn’t check the location.” Lafayette laughed and pecked Hercules’ blushing cheek. “It is fine mon cher, we are teasing you. Let’s go!”

We watched as they traipsed out the dorm. “Well,” Alexander said, clapping his hands and standing up abruptly. “The people with significant others are gone. How’s single life treating you ladies?”

Angelica snorted. Peggy rolled her eyes. Angelica left the room. Peggy followed suit.

“That worked better than I expected,” Alexander remarked, dusting his hands with the air of a scientist satisfied with the results of their experiment. “If you don’t mind, I’ll be working right now, but if you have any questions, feel free to ask.”

Shit, he was talking to me. “Oh, yeah, that’s fine, thanks!” I approved in a rush.

I sat down on the bed to sketch, letting the art flow from me, and soon the pleasant quiet of the room was filled with the steady tapping of Alex’s quick typing.


	16. Sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a small moment type of morning, captured by the sun rising.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... It's a little short, I'm sorry.

\---Alex’s POV---

By 10:30 John was sleeping peacefully on the bed, sketch book in hand. I wished I could see what he drew, but he was a little on top of it and I didn’t want to wake him. Speaking of which, he hadn’t woken me up from my inadvertent sleeping spell and I was consequently feeling considerably refreshed, awake, and alert for 10:45 at night.

With an offhand shrug, I decided to keep working. The essay I was currently toiling on was due in barely a month and I was semifrantic to complete it. I needed to study several psych terms. I had to study for law, biology, and several minors.  _ Crap. _

To be sure, the short time I had spent sleeping this afternoon proved very beneficial as I now felt quite awake. I was not used to such generous amounts of sleep, usually working on much less. Oh well. I could work it off.

When the first rays of light leaked through the soft curtains, casting a small spotlight on my notebook, I was still at work.

 

\---John’s POV---

_ Beep! Beep! Beep! _

My eyes flew open but my body didn’t move an inch as I saw a dimly lit room with the curtains closed, fast typing creating a constant, gentle patter. 4:45 AM, the clock read in glowing red numbers. A soft stream of light comfortingly touched the objects in the room, but I realized an unnatural light was also being cast and traced it to a laptop that was glowingly illuminating Alex’s weary face.

What the hell?! I clicked the button on the clock and the beeping stopped as my hand fell limpy to hang down over the edge of the bed, already exhausted from the effort.

“When’d you get up?” I groggily asked Alex, rubbing my eyes.

“Shit.” His voice was dry and worn. He took a long sip from a thermos beside him and cleared his throat experimentally before continuing, “sorry about the alarm. I should turn it off and-and…” he looked thoughtful.

“You look like you need sleep.” I eyed him, his eyebags clear even though the light from his computer came from below his face. “When did you wake up?”

“I didn’t.” I blinked. What. “I stayed up all night.”

“You WHAT?” was all I was capable of spluttering.

“Hey, hey, hey, chill, it’s normal. I’m fine!” Alex continued to type, looking slightly alarmed at my reaction, but I was already speaking before he finished assuring me everything was ok.

“ _ Nope! _ You are sleeping right now! Dude, I’ma be your mother ‘cuz you clearly need parental guidance if you think it’s normal to stay up all night.” I grabbed his arm and pulled open the covers. Laying him down on the bed, I patted his head. “‘Night.”

I realized as I turned around, already too awake to go back to sleep, that he’d fallen silent as soon as I told him I’d be his parent.

His endless stream of protests had ended. I resolved not to talk about parents anymore. “Goodnight.” he whispered with a soft smile. My heart melted.

Once he relaxed, he fell asleep pretty quickly. I was already awake and was too shy to ask to sleep in the bed with him, to I slipped into the bathroom to shower, change, brush my hair, and check my reflection.

By 5:20 I was out and about, toasting us both a couple of waffles and searching the fridge for butter and syrup. I wolfed down mine because I didn’t really want to eat around him after our discussion of food yesterday.

Tying up my hair and making sure one last time that my bruises were covered, I quietly left the room, closing the door behind me. It was 5:50 and the sun had begun to fill in the dorm, catching the green eyes on the picture of Mother, her eyes sparking as I twisted the knob gently so it barely made a click. Alexander needed his sleep,  and I wouldn’t wake him until it was absolutely necessary.

Dew from my shoes made wet tracks on the cement of the sidewalk, showing my path through the grass, onto the sidewalk, and leading to the coffee shop, where I stood. The sun was halfway up, making the grass twinkle.

By 6:10 the coffee was ready, and I waved to Elizabeth- who told me to call her Eliza, and squinted in the sunlight as I stepped outside.

The sun had risen. It was a new day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again so much for reading... Who's still actually reading?


	17. Hoodie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Jeremy this time- I promise they're relevant. And plus, who doesn't love a bit of Boyf riends?

\---Jeremy’s POV---

For the millionth time, I wondered why my dad sent me to a regular high school. Why couldn’t I just go to the orphanage? I heard Evan did. Granted, Evan’s fucking true love went there. He’d probably be heartbroken if he had to leave Jared. Actually, my true love went here, and I’d stay here if I had the choice, but only for him.

The problem was, Evan’s love for Jared was obviously requited. My love for Michael, my best bud? Nope. Unrequited as fuck. If hanahaki was real, I would be coughing up so many Michael’s-sweater-red flowers we could make a living.

Moping and giving my acne a deadly glare as I peaked in the tiny locker, I shut the door and caught sight of my reason to exist.

“Michael!” I tried not to sound too excited, but my attempt failed miserably. 

A pair of headphones over his ears, Michael’s hood was pulled up, but I could see his radiant smile. “Jeremy, my buddy, how’s it hanging?”

_ My buddy. _ Yup, no chance there. As he came close, his smile seemed less genuine. His voice was definitely flat.

“You ok bro?” I immediately questioned my concerned voice. Too concerned? No, I wanted to show him that I cared. But maybe, because then it might hint that I liked him as more than a friend. Or maybe not because didn’t people worry the fuck out of themselves over their friends all the time?

“Yeah man, feeling rad. What about you? How was class? You look like ass. What’s wrong?” He switched the convo so it was about me, but I detected a bit of something else in his voice. He probably wasn’t actually feeling rad.

_ You look like ass, what’s wrong? _ That’s what was wrong. I looked like ass, and he knew, because he had eyes, but I liked him and he would never like me back, is what was wrong. Figuring  _ what’s wrong? _ Referred to my lovesick expression, I muttered some bullshit about writing to Christine.

Who I had absolutely no interest in.

Except as an excuse to be pining over someone.

Once, he caught me staring into space and I wasn’t focusing on anything. I was just spacing out as I fantasized about  _ us. _

_ Which chick are you eyefucking? _ He’d asked, following my gaze. I picked the first one that walked past.  _ Cristine _ . I’d told him.  _ Whoa dude, I had no idea you dig her! How long?  _ Three fake seconds. He’d been ready to help me in any way he could. 

Now, whenever I gazed at him and ended up looking like a lovesick puppy, Michael assumed I was thinking about Christine.

“That’s progress!” he told me enthusiastically.

“I tore it up and flushed it.” Actually, I wrote him a note recently, confessing I was bi, though I didn’t say anything about how I felt. I’d tore that up and flushed it. Thus the inspiration.

He sighed. Disappointed because I wasn’t getting the girl I wanted. Clearly not in any way happy because I stayed single. I wish. Not that Christine would hook up if I wanted to. No one would, ever.  _ Jeremy, just face that you’re one of those guys who’ll be a virgin ‘till he dies.I _

To cheer me up, Michael told me about how it was fine to be a loser, how it was ok to be proud of doing, saying, and being into things coined for losers.  _ Easy for you to say. _ I wanted to tell him,  _ you’d be a fucking gorgeous angel no matter what the hell you do. _

He was so perfect. So proud of who he was and so happy and ready to help others. So heartfelt. He looked good, he sang well, he saved the school and probably all of human civilization with his MDR. And he saved me, of course. After I was a huge jerk, even when the SQUIP was off. I still felt worse than shit whenever I remembered that.

“...So why try to be cool when you could be-” Suddenly, Michael nudged me, my heart skipping even though I really only came into contact with his sweater. “-Signing up for the play!”

I was more than confused, I was fucking lost, if I’m honest. That was a sign up sheet for getting called gay and that’s not what I needed right now, while I was pining desperately after my best friend. 

“...I thought you were gonna say ‘getting stoned in my basement but-’” 

“-No! I mean, look who’s signing up for the play!” He pointed down the hallway. “Christine!” I tried to search his face for a sliver of jealousy or anything other than support but his face was thrown into shadow by the hood of his red hoodie that he still hadn’t taken off.

Well, if Michael said so… I walked over and signed, to yells to  _ gay _ and mocking laughter. 

Gee, what a surprise. It hurt that they called me gay and were half right without knowing, but that they were saying  _ gay _ as an insult, not a fact.

“Dude, I forgot they’d call you gay, bro, sorry about that. At least now you get to get cozy with Christine, am I right?” Michael’s voice hitched up a couple notches when he said  _ gay _ . 

I knew he was a supporter, we’d been best friends for a really long time now. Still… maybe he would feel different if it was one of the people close to him…

~ ~ ~

“Mr. Mell, please take off your hood while inside. I have asked you multiple times.”

Michael uncharacteristically was unresponsive, tilting his head for the clock. I could hear his warm voice muttering, “C-c-c-come on, c-c-c-come on, go, go.”

“Five minutes,” I muttered out of the corner of my mouth. “Then we’re free to go.”

When the bell finally rang, Michael still hadn’t lowered his hood.

****

\---Michael’s POV---

_ Yes! _ The lunch bell rang. “Suddenly we’re free to fly!” I rejoiced, the first good news of the day. I managed to go half a day without removing my hood. Half a day to go.

“C’mon Micha, lunch.” Jeremy tugged my arm and I blushed, thankful for the shade of my hood and the red hue it cast on my face. “You-”

“Got it.” Sometimes I wondered if Jeremy only kept me around for my MDR. I pulled one out of my backpack, remembering the  _ Boyf Reinds _ that had been written there and blushing. 

Jeremy was a bit higher on the hierarchy now after the SQUIP. A couple of handshakes and highfives with other dudes. A couple glances from chicks. I didn’t think he ever noticed them, but I did. I always noticed when people looked at him.

I noticed how happy he was to be noticed. Did he realize I’d always been there?  _ I  _ always helped him out when he needed it.  _ I  _ always said  _ good morning _ and  _ good night _ and everything in between.

I wasn’t  _ jealous _ of the guys who gave him acknowledgement, who made him happy. I knew he was straight. I was just sad that  _ I  _ couldn’t make him that happy. 

If I could make him that happy, he’d be happy all the time, because I’d always be there. And Jeremy being happy is all I’ve ever wanted.

Actually, if we were a couple, that would be a bonus, but I’d rather him be happy with someone else than unhappy with me. And hell, he’d be unhappy with me. He loved Christine so much…

Him being happy was enough. That’s why I didn’t stop him from getting the SQUIP. Why I was excited for him. He wanted to be cooler, and I couldn’t give that to him. The SQUIP could. That’s why I tried to, and finally managed to stop the SQUIP: I could tell that it was hurting his psych, and I couldn’t bear that. That’s why I told him to sign up for the play: He’d get a shot at happiness with his crush. I couldn’t give him that. The play might.  _ Christine _ might.

Especially if the play was romance. I winced at the idea of Jeremy kissing someone, remembering Brooke and Chloe. My heart shattered and not all the pieces were back together yet from the times I saw those kisses. Not because he was kissing someone that wasn’t me, which did hurt, but because he was kissing without feeling.

I could tell. I was his best friend, after all. I already knew I have no chance. I’d never be  _ truly _ happy. But if Jere was happy, I’d be satisfied. And for Jere to be happy, he had to get with Christine. 

“Hey bro, you good? Cuz you’re eating like a high robot.”

_ Shit. Jesus fucking Christ, stop thinking about Jeremy. _ “Holy shit dude, I like spaced out into another fucking dimension or something. What’s I miss?” Not my best excuse.

Actually, I went through that same thought process every day.  _ Jeremy has to get with Christine so he’ll be happy, then you’ll be happy. _ I repeated it like a mantra. Just usually I wasn’t idiotic enough to fall into that hole when I was at school.

“Christine’s telling me about musicals.” Funny how I didn’t detect any excitement in his voice. I knew him well enough to tell that he wasn’t interested. But I knew he was interested in Christine… Maybe he didn’t like musicals? I thought he did…

“He only knows Miranda.” Christine informed me with a superior air. Then she dropped the superior expression and giggled. “It’s ok, I’m playing with you, it’s totally cool if you’re into musicals at all, welcome to the club, and you’re the guy who saved us all, right? Michael?” She spoke so  _ fast. _

_ Oh shit, she has to like Jeremy, not you! _ “Nah, it was Jeremy.” I shook my head. “He gave you the MDR, right? I mean, that was hella great of him, to like give y’all that when he’d finally…” I didn’t know how to finish that. Fuck.

Jeremy was probably cursing me for opening my mouth in front of his crush.

“MDR? Oh, Mountain Dew Red, yeah, I mean, you did some…” Christine replied uncertainly. She looked at me and then began talking quickly again. “Anyway, it’s super cool to like, meet you and all, thanks both of you for like helping us out and stuff, is it weird that I can’t look you in the eye when I say this? Like can you take off your hood or something, I feel like I’m staring at a dementor of something, I don’t know, it just feels…”

God fucking dammit. Why did Jeremy have to have a crush on a girl that talked so damn much? For that matter, why did he have to have a crush on a _girl?_ _Wait, Michael, no, we are not going there right now._

“I’m gonna go get stoned in the bathroom, you two have a radical time.” I took a sip of the MDR and dashed out of the cafeteria. At least Jeremy would get some alone time with his future girl.

\---Jeremy’s POV---

“He’s not allowed to get stoned on school grounds.” Christine sounded concerned.

I was more concerned. Why wouldn’t he take his hood off? “Yeah, I’ll go stop him. I’ll check out some of those other musicals sometime.” I hoped she’d take the hint. She didn’t.

“Oh, yes! You totally should! I can’t remember all of them right now, hold up, I’m just gonna look at my bio- it has all my musicals…”

“Sorry Christine, I gotta go!” I got up, slinging my backpack over my shoulder and grabbing the MDR.

“But-!” She was frantically tapping her phone screen.

“Can’t let Michael get high until after dinner.” I really didn’t need to another discussion with his parents about getting high at school.

“Michael?” I spotted a red sweatshirt, my heart fluttering.

“Ah, fuck you scared me.” Michael turned around. “Why aren’t you hooking up with Christine right now?” Why was he so eager to get me with her? I mean, painting me as the hero a couple minutes ago, leaving us two alone…  _ he’s your best friend, he’s trying to help you out. _

“Why aren’t you taking off your hood?” I shot back at him.

“Are you a teacher too? That’s fucking lit. Why do I have to?” Michael’s voice got desperately defensive.

I softened my tone. “I’m just worried about you. You’re my best friend, and there’s something you aren’t telling me.” Best friend. It physically hurt to say it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ok, seriously though? He tried to push past me but I stepped to the side, blocking him. “C’mon man. Move it.”

I knew this was cold hearted, but I had to know if something was wrong. “Or you’ll what?” It had the right response: he froze.

“Fuck you buddy.” He lowered his hood.

“Holy shit,” I breathed, physically incapable of saying anything else. His face was littered with bruises. “Who-” I began to ask, but Michael was already out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did you like that one? I hope I did okay. And, any guesses on where this goes? Hint, hint.


	18. For Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two go to an open field that's framed with trees...

\---Alex’s POV---

I smiled. Lunch time. Maybe this one would go better than the last. Afterall, a new day is a new start. You can always hope.

I ran into Angie as I walked down the hallway to usher kids into the cafeteria. “Seen John?” Were the first words out of my mouth.

She raised her eyebrows. “Somebody’s got a crush. Nope, haven’t seen your boyfriend.”

“Angie!” I hurried out the door, my face comparable to a tomato.

Tugging my phone out of my tight jeans, I texted John directly.

**A-L-E-X-A-N-D-E-R:** I’m on lunch duty today, I can grab us lunch if you wanna eat at recess.

**RaiseAGlassToTurtles:** Sure! I’ll meet you in front of the cafeteria.

I beamed at the phone screen.

“Cute date?” Laf eyed my expression with a laugh. I rolled my eyes, exasperated.

“Why does everyone assume something romantic or sexual?” I was blushing saying these words as I thought of John.

“Because you look in love.” I snorted and left to go to the cafeteria. 

With a deep breath, I stepped into the pit of chaos and disorder that was the lunch scene.

“You’re the fucking freak.” 

I turned towards the harsh voice just in time to see Connor Murphy push Evan, making him drop his lunch tray. Evan stood up, shaking, and Jared was practically quivering with rage.

“J-Jared, no-” Evan gasped, but Jared paid no attention. He stepped forward to the glowering figure in black.

“Why is Evan the freak? At least he doesn’t have a fucking temper like yours. Who throws a tantrum just because they can’t be line leader?”

Connor growled, “That was  _ first grade _ .” 

“And why are you so damn emo all the time, like what’s with the all black outfit all the fucking time? And don’t get me started on your hair, what look were you going for, school shooter chic?”

The whole cafeteria was staring, Evan was frantic under the reflected attention of the fight, and jared clearly didn’t have any qualms about continuing.

“Boys!” They paid me absolutely no heed either.

“Jared, please.” Evan appeared on the edge of an anxiety attack and Jared instantly dropped all anger from his persona and gently took Evan’s had, tugging him to a table. 

“Here.” He handed Evan his own lunch tray, shooting Connor another poisonous glare. I breathed a sigh of relief and headed to the counter to grab two lunch trays for John and myself. “I’ll take the ham out for you.”

The chatter filled in the space again and then- “Evan always wears fucking blue! At least I can speak clearly.”

Jared pulled out of Evan’s grasp. “Jared, please.”

“Evan, I’d rather be divisive than indecisive. Drop the niceties.” He turned to Connor.

_ Crap. _ I handed Mr. Heere the lunch trays back. “Hold these for me, will you?” I revolved on the spot, angling myself towards the fight.

“There’s nothing the fuck wrong with stuttering. I think it’s very endearing, unlike temper tantrums, and Evan looks fucking great in blue-”

“Language! Detention both of you boys.” I couldn’t figure out how to defuse the situation so I stepped between them. 

Jared stormed back to his seat, flipping Connor the bird. “Fuck you Connor! Asshole!”

I sighed. Jared knew no boundaries. Admittedly, Evan looked pretty stung by Connor’s comments. The stuttering was a bit far. But so was Jared’s comments on Connor’s hair and emoness.  _ Emoness. _ Was that a word?

**A-L-E-X-A-N-D-E-R:** Jared and Connor have detention, who wants them?

**GunsAndBaguettes:** When?

**A-L-E-X-A-N-D-E-R:** Whenever.

**NeverSatistied:** I’ll take them. Tell them after school.

“Jared, Connor, after school detention with Mx. Schuyler.”

“How-”

“However long she decides.” I picked up the lunch trays. “John’s,” I told Mr. Heere, holding up the second tray by way of answering his protests.

“Gotcha.” He grinned with his whole face. “I got the kids. You two need your alone time.”

I groaned. “Not you too!” but he just laughed and waved me off.  _ Alone time.  _ Actually, not a bad idea.

“I hope this is okay.” John just smiled, taking the tray.

“Electric car.” His eyes lit up. Something else occured to me.

“Where’s  _ your _ car?”

His expression flickered and he was suddenly fascinated by a beetle scuttling across the road. “I took a taxi.”

I gaped, closing my mouth at the intricate web of emotions on John’s face.

“Yes, all the way here from South Carolina. My family has seven cars and none of them are electric… we only have four people.” He answered every question as I opened my mouth.

How did a four person family have seven cars and yet not be able to get an electric car? Unless- “You know global warming is real, right?”

He looked stung, and yet his expression hinted that I may have, in cact, hit somewhere close. “I’m a science teacher, what do you think?” His bitter tone dared me to ask more.

Biting my lip at his tone, I proposed as an olive branch, “You want to drive?”

His whole face lit up, and he blurted, “Oh hell yeah, could I?”

I tossed him the keys. “All yours.” I quickly entered a location on my phone. “Just do what the GPS tells you to do.”

Looking as though he thought driving an electric car was too good to be true, he reverently opened and entered the car. I smiled. Olive branch effective.

As we started down the road, bluetooth automatically connected and Miranda began to play. As self conscious as I was of my voice, it would have been traitorous to Miranda to not sing along. “Ooooh, I do, I do, I do I dooo. Heeey, ooooh, I do, I do, I do, I dooooo. Boy ya got me helpless…” 

I never questioned  _ what  _  I sang before, because I wasn’t singing them  _ to _ anyone, I was just singing because I liked the song. But now I was blushing considerably, suddenly hyperconscious that I was singing a love song to a guy in my crush’s presence. I had to keep singing, however, because stopping abruptly would undoubtedly be more questionable.

John was blushing in the rear view mirror. 

“You don’t know Miranda?” I asked, to alter the focus of our attention.

“I do! I love Miranda. Huge fan, of course! He’s a great guy except for the cheating and the music is amazing.” He seemed really into the musical. “I pretty much know the whole play.” He kept his eyes on the road.

“Me too. I could sing the entire thing in my sleep if I had a voice. As it is, I sing anyway.” He chuckled but didn’t say anything. “You can sing, I won’t judge.” I said finally.

Eyes still fixed on the road, John shook his head. “Nah, I’m good. Singing isn’t really my thing?” Okay, but why wouldn’t he look me in the eye when he said that? The road was straight and there wasn’t another car in sight. And yet, his eyes darted around like they couldn’t find something to focus on.

Maybe he was just a paranoid driver. “Okay, just tell me if I get annoying.” Thankfully, Helpless was over by now.

 

\---John’s POV---

I fought the urge to sing along as Alex’s rough voice hit every note. I loved to hear him sing, and I wanted to feel the blind joy of singing, but I knew I’d sound terrible. 

**** I had no experience, no practice. Because, you guessed it, singing was feminine. Apparently.

On top of Alex’s perfect pitch, the sound system in the car was really nice and it wasn’t obstructed by the rough cough of an engine because the electric car gave off nothing but a soft purr.

Why did my rich family not have an electric car? To quote my father, “liberal bullshit.” Trump was his biggest idol.

The landscape morphed into a field as I drove the winding country road.

“Dessert first?” Alex looked at me for approval, gesturing to his window. “A’La mode is great.”

Because I totally had it in my to disagree with another person’s opinion. “Sure.”

I downed the last of my ice cream drippings, tossing the cone tip into my mouth as we stepped onto an open field, framed with trees.

“This place is nice,” I didn’t have a better word. It was  _ nice _ to the extreme.

“Yeah, really peaceful and relaxing. Very open and fresh.” How did Alex explain things so perfectly?  _ Nice _ was no longer good enough.

Both of us ate very quickly, though I didn’t say anything about it and neither did he. Soon we were laying on our backs drinking in the sun. I stared up, my view framed with green leaves, an open sky spread above us.

“I come here to think.” I could hear the fondness and the smile in Alex’s voice, though I didn’t turn my head. “It’s relaxing. Sometimes I lay for hours. All I see is sky, for forever.”

He slowly raised a fair hand, small and white against the deep sky. “It goes on and on, blue is a very calming color. I just let the world pass by for forever.” He lowered his hand, and it came down softly in top of mine.

_ Oh, oh my god. _ His soft, soothing words had calmed me down until I could go on for forever this way. To friends, on a perfect day.

Then he just had to freak me out. I mean, he was practically holding my hand. And he wasn’t moving his hand. Neither, of course, was I.

“Yeah,” I breathed, whisper screaming curse words in my mind at how stupid my response was. “It’s beautiful.” That’s better. At least it sounded more sincere.

A soft, twinkling sound came from Alex’s right pocket, the one next to me. He reached across his body with his left hand to pull out his phone.

His left hand. To get his phone out of is right pocket. Why? Because his right hand was busy holding mine. I hoped.

Dismissing his alarm, he sighted. “Time to head back,” he informed me, sounding disappointed. I thought. Or… I hoped.

I turned to Alex shyly as we headed to the car. “Can I drive?”

“Of course!”

On the drive back we were both quiet, listening to Miranda. It was a tiny bit awkward, but not in a really uncomfortable way. If anything, it was a bit sweet.

We didn’t even speak as we waved a friendly goodbye and headed off to our separate classes, but I could tell he blushed when I met his eye. Maybe he was gay. Or maybe he was just being friendly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely apologize to all Connor Murphy lovers. I love him too. However, tell me if I’m wrong, no TreeBros is better than unrequited TreeBros, and as much as I’m already hurting you shippers, I don’t want to hurt you even more so...


	19. I am not a Faggot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple arguments, enter Jefferson and Madison as fuller characters.

\---Alex’s POV---

John chose to chill in the library after school, and I was too embarrassed to spend time with him. I made the clearly idiotic decision to not remove my hand when I accidentally let it descend onto his. He didn’t pull away, but probably only to avoid being uncourteous. I mean, he didn’t say a single word the entire way back.

Regardless, it was necessary, at this point, for me to get more coffee.

I whistled as I strolled back, trying to pretend I could forget about ‘Liza’s teasing.  _That Laurens boy is pretty cute, isn’t he? Is the gay half of your bi freaking out?”_

I sipped my replenished coffee, stiffening as I spotted familiar fluffy hair across the street. I had genuinely no desire to instigate or participate in a fight.

I kept walking, pretending to check a text on my phone.

“Ay, Alexander Hamilfag!” Jeffershit.

“Thomas, please leave him be,” tried James Madison. He was, of course, ignored.

“Yo! I’m talking to you!”

Well, I tried.

“I heard you. Did you ask a question? Because I didn’t hear anything worth a response.” I shot back as I turned around, feeling my stomach filling up with dread.

“Bitch.” He shoved me and I stumbled back but managed to remain standing.

I scoffed. “Is conversation to advanced for you? I suppose you’re incapable of anything save brute force.”

“I’m actually smart, I just don’t waste it on you.” Jefferson snarled, swinging a fist. I ducked it just in time. My physical skills were not on par with my intellectual ones.

“I’m really not trying to pick a fight here. I’m just saying intellectually challenged people such as yourself shouldn’t consider themselves above others because they think they intimidate others.” I had a lot to study and no time for an ignorant prick like Jeffershit. And yes,  _ignorant_  is my most potent insult.

“Look, Thomas, he doesn’t want trouble, can we just go?” pleaded James. I sent him a look of gratitude, but that just made Jeffershit more upset.

“What do you know, the whore’s looking at you Jemm-James. And here I thought he didn’t want to fight because he wanted to look pretty for that new boy in town.” sneered Jeffershit. “Gay-”

“Alright, first of all I’m bisexual,” I cut him off, before I let myself get hurt with whatever gay slurs he wanted to throw at me. “And second, one day you’re going to accept who  _you_  are and greatly regret everything you’ve called me.”

Jefferson spluttered and James looked at the ground. “My god.” Was all Jefferson managed to choke out.

“Thomas, let’s go.” James pulled Jefferson away, though he still looked outraged.

Thank god for the existence of James Madison.

\---Thomas’ POV---

Jemmy paced the room, refusing to meet my eye. “He isn’t a bad guy Thomas, just give him a chance, will you?”

It hurt me to see him so upset but I wasn’t about to throw away this grudge for my best friend.  _Best friend._ I wasn’t a f****t.

“Just because he’s bi doesn’t mean he falls in love with every girl and guy he meets. Just like I’m gay, and it doesn’t mean I fall in love with every guy I meet. He’s not into me and I’m not into him.” I swore his tone was patronizing.

“‘Give him a chance.’ He never gave  _me_  a chance.” Seriously. Maybe if Alexander Hamilfag showed me a bit of kindness, I would return the favor. But he’d shown me no respect since the moment I’d met him.

“Maybe that’s because the first time you met him he came to your house asking you to stop abusing one of his friends and you beat him up.” James stopped pacing and looked me squarely in the eye.

I preferred him avoiding my eyes. Looking him directly in the eyes stirred too many wrong emotions.

“Why are you on his side?” I exploded, swinging my arms in emphasis. It stung to have someone I cared about fight me on behalf of someone I hated. “I really think you like him.” I didn’t know why I cared. I wasn’t a f****t.

Jemmy- _James_  looked thoroughly exasperated, but so was I. Why didn’t he understand me? “Not everything I do is romantically motivated. Maybe I’m just defending him as a friend, ever thought of that?” He crossed his arms. He looked kinda hot when he crossed his arms. I mean- what? I wasn’t a f****t.

“I’m your friend too. I thought you were closer to me than to him.” I tried to lower my voice.

Jemmy flinched at the word  _friend,_ I saw him. I wanted to give him a hug,to get rid of his hurt expression. Not by kissing him. Not at all. I was not a f****t.

“But you’re wrong!” Jem- _James_  yelled, finally, cutting my sentence. “You are picking the fights, you’re hurting people who don’t deserve to be. Close or not, I stand by the side that is fair. That is right.”

I wanted to cry out. He was openly declaring he was on Alex’s side, that he thought I was wrong.

“He’s barely your friend!” I protested. “Aren’t I a closer friend than him?” I pushed.

“Friend. Still just a friend,” he muttered bitterly to himself.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Fuck. The anger was back and Jemmy looked really upset now. Actually, part of me told me I knew exactly what he meant. Something associated with the reason I cared that he was unhappy and that he wasn’t with Alex.

Jemmy looked so upset, I could’ve sworn he was about to cry. “You know what that means! I hate how you can’t admit you feel the same way too. Even to me! No one here is going to judge you or put you down for it, there’s nobody else but the two of us here!” He shoved past me.

“Where the hell are you going?” I couldn’t think about what he said. He was wrong. I was not a f****t.

“To the refreshing company of people who admit who they are.” Jemmy’s voice shook with anger and hurt, and my heart ached with the knowledge that I’d caused it.

As a friend. Everybody feels mildly heartbroken when they’ve hurt their friend.

“What the hell-”

“You know what the hell that’s supposed to mean!” I was so shocked that my quiet, sweet, steady Jemmy-  _James_   _goddammit_ \- had yelled that I couldn’t even form a response. He lowered his volume but there was no less emotion behind his voice. “How many times do we have to kiss before you can tell me,  _the boy you’re kissing_ , that you care for me as more than a friend?”

Soft and cuddly and sweet, the word  _boy_  struck me harder than any other word. But more than a friend? I was  _not_  a f****t. “I don’t I-”

Jemmy let out a choked noise and stepped out of the house, closing the door softly behind him. Softly, so it didn’t slam, but as final as anything had ever been between us.

“I’m straight.” I declared to the empty room. I sat down on the couch, realizing for the first time that I was shaking. “I’m not a f****t. My voice cracked on the last word, but I reveled in finally hearing myself say them out loud.

“ _I’m_  not a f****t.” I thought of Alex. I wasn’t like  _him._

“I’m  _not_  a f****t.” I thought of Jem- _James_. Why did he even think I was? A few kisses didn’t mean shit. Even if they felt like heaven.

“I’m not a  _f****t._ ” I thought of being homo. Or bi. Or pan. How could I be? It was so  _wrong_. So  _unnatural._  I repeated it. “ _I_ am  _not_  a  _f****t!_ ”

My voice got stronger with every word, even though I felt a needle prick my heart each time. My face was wet. I angrily swiped at the tears.  _More conviction_. I needed to convince everyone, though no one was there. Part of me knew I was trying to convince myself.

The tears had stopped flowing, and I had stopped shaking. I felt stronger. Telling the world I wasn’t a f****t had made me stronger. I stood up. I took a deep breath.

And screamed. “I AM NOT A F****T!!”

My knees gave away and I sat hard on the floor, mildly aware my tears and trembling had returned. I whimpered, “I am not a f****t,” choking on my tears.

A whisper. “I am not a f****t.”

I gave up trying to speak, staring at the edge of the table that my eyes were level with. My vision swam with tears.

F****t. Homosexual. Gay.

Gay was another word for happy. I was definitely  _not_  gay.

And yet, I could hear Alex’s voice ringing in my ears, witter, but with the tiniest flake of sympathy.

_One day you’re going t_ _o accept who you are and greatly regret everything you’ve called me._ **  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How'd you like these two? I hope for them to become a bigger part of the story.


	20. John decides to Cook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title says it all. Plus they watch this great movie. Then sleep.

\---John’s POV---

When Alex came back to the dorm with his refilled coffee, I could feel the hurricane of anger around him. His clenched jaw made him less  _ cute  _  and more  _ handsome. _ He sipped his coffee aggressively an his eyes flicked up at me as he opened his computer somewhat violently.

“Hey John.” I bit my lip at the harsh rift in is voice as he said my name. The screen lit his face and he began typing aggressively too. It was kind of hot.

I watched his fingers nimbly tap-tap-tapping on the black keys, smooth and skilled. He hardly hit the  _ delete _ key.

“You ok?” He glanced up with concern. “You look relatively flushed.” Ah! Oops.

“Uh, no I’m fine.” I laughed it off. “You good though? ’Cuz you seem kinda mad.” What is subtlety?

“Yeah, I just ran into someone whose company I don’t particularly enjoy.”

Wow, his vocabulary had no off switch. I smiled with relief. “Ok, as long as it’s not something I did.

“Not at all, you’re thoroughly amazing.” Alex replied matter-of-factly.

I blushed, and shuffled over to the fridge to hide my face. “Aw shit, you too.” I considered the food. I was terrible at cooking but I found that I really enjoyed it. It had been really fun. “I’m cooking dinner.” I announced.

Looking up, Alex offered, “I can order something if you want to eat.”

I shook my head shyly. “If you’re ok with it I kind of want to cook. I’ve never cooked before, so…” 

Alex looked mildly surprised. “Never? Wow.”

Oh crap. That was a slip. “Y-yeah. I’ll try not to set a fire and burn down the building.”

Alex grinned. “Alright, go ahead and cook.” I pumped a fist of victory and got to work.

When I got hurt, I never reacted vocally, a reflex thrown in there from all the punches, so when I cut myself while cubing carrots, I sucked in my breath and that was it.

Somehow Alex heard my anyway. “John, oh shit, did you cut yourself?” He flinched at his own use of words and lept up quickly. “Rinse it off.”

“It’s just a small cut,” I responded, but I did as he asked.

Alex dried it and wrapped it up very skillfully. Too skillfully. But I didn’t say anything, half because I figured he probably didn’t want to talk about it and half because I was afraid if we talked at all, he’d look up and me and see I was blushing because he was practically holding my hand.

“Thanks.” I said softly. Alex pulled his hands away and nodded, returning to his work and leaving my hands tingling.

Alex seemed unaffected by the low key hand holding between us, but I noticed he hit the  _ delete  _ key much more than before. By the time I finished cooking dinner, he seemed almost frustrated with himself for messing up while he typed.

“Here,” I said, handing him a plate of chicken and bread salad.  **(It’s so good, guys.)** “I won’t be offended if you hate it. It’s probably terrible.”

“I don’t know, it smells incredible.” Grabbing a fork, Alex took a bite. His eyes popped open. “Holy hell this is delicious! You claim to have never cooked before?”

Blushing, I grinned. “It’s ok then?” I took a fork and poured myself some water.

“It’s far beyond ok. This is genuinely genius.” Alex took a huge bite, speaking through his hand politely. “How’d you accomplish this?”

I shrugged proudly. “I just followed the recipe. I took a lot longer than I was supposed to though, ‘cause I’m not that good yet.”

Alex chuckled. “There is a small number of peculiar cubes in here but they’re a minority.”

I quirked a half smile. “Minorities deserve as much recognition as majorities do.”

Alex pulled his pencil from behind his ear, a habit which I thought was absolutely adorable, and tapped his temple with the eraser, then pointed it at me. “That,” he proclaimed, “is the unequivocal, extremely under acknowledged, truth.”

He returned to his laptop, tapping away before I could blink. Jeez, he didn’t waste a second.

“Nope, nope, nope, nope, you have worked too much. I decided. “It’s time for you to chill out. You got any movies worth your time?” I tugged him to the couch and he reluctantly complied, plate in hand.

“Crash,” he suggested after a minute. He chewed and swallowed another bite. “It’s a movie about minority interactions, since we’re on that subject.” He caught my skeptical expression. “No, it’s not anything like a documentary. It’s really, really impressive. It won best picture one year. It’s approximately two hours long and is immeasurably emotionally potent. That’s just a possibility, if you consider yourself up for it.”

I laughed easily, pulling it out of the case of DVDs Alex pointed to. “It’s a movie.” I entered the disk and joined him on the couch. “I can handle it.:

The opening screen showed pictures of people’s faces sliding by. A black man. A white woman. A white cop. A Persian man, a Latino man. A gun floated in the corner of the screen.

“You sure?” Alex’s voice held a warning but he didn’t stop me.

“Yeah,” I replied, “seriously, I’ll be fine. It’s a movie.” I hit play.

Alex just raised his eyebrows. “Just you wait.”

 

\---Alex’s POV---

John lay on the couch, staring a the screen with wide unblinking eyes. His facial expression was how I felt, and I’d already seen the movie several times.

I broke the bottomless silence, exhaling a long breath. “So.” I didn’t have the mental energy to say anything else.

“Holy mother…” Neither, apparently, did John. We sat in overwhelming silence for a while longer.

Ten minutes later we were still sitting in the same rigid position. John took a shaky breath. “Holy fuck.”

“Yeah,” I nodded in confirmation, “That right there is a truly thought provoking film.”

John let out a breathless laugh. “I feel like we’re high or something.” He was still lying down on the couch.

I snickered. “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.” Stretching, I stood up.

“You better not go back to work.” John still hadn’t moved from his original position. I instantaneously straightened my posture and made a haphazard attempt to leech as much weariness from my movements as possible.

“Why not? I’m not tired. In fact, I have a marginally large amount of energy.” I opened a cabinet and extracted a blanket and pillow from my stock of extra supplies. “Are you planning to go to bed?”

“Actually,” John replied, slowly sitting up, “I’ma sleep here. You have to sleep.” He took the pair of bedclothes from me.

I tilted my head a couple of degrees like a curious puppy. “I detect no correlation…?”

John spread the sheet and blanket, plumping the pillow. “You can work, or you can sleep. But I’m sleeping on the couch so you can sleep on the bed. So if you decide to work, you’ll make my sacrifice for nothing…”

“Oh damn. I- fudge. How about I sleep but you take the bed?” I had to give John the credit for formulating such a plan. Manipulative though it was, it was effective.

“Nope, that defeats the purpose. You could get up and work as soon as I fall asleep.” John slipped out of the covers. “I’ll just go change. I’ll be right back.”

I sighed, changed, and slipped resignedly into bed, gazing longingly at my closed laptop gleaming in the moonlight.

John stepped quietly out of the bathroom, smiling proudly as he spotted me. “‘Night.”

“‘Night.” As a last minute thought, I gently clicked the alarm clock beside me, turning my alarm off.

I had grown up sleeping very little, not that I desired to reflect upon my childhood at the moment, but it’d become a useful adaptation. I was effectively able to function on a few hours of sleep and so chose to do so because it was a better use of my time. In doing this, I became so accustomed to small amounts of sleep that I couldn’t even tell that I needed to take a break. That being said, it came as quite a surprise when I found myself feeling quite sleepy after only a few minutes.

Within a few minutes, I descended into a deep, peaceful slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For everyone still reading, I am amazed you've made it this far. THANK YOU for sticking with it!!


	21. John Laurens is Going Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets a text prompting him to panic and leave for home immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The extra long chapter is an apology. You'll find out at the bottom.

\---John’s POV---

The couch was pretty comfortable and the next morning I woke up well rested and ready for a new day. Alex was already up, his hair wet and tied back.

“7:23 and you’re already up and showered? How early did you get up?” I realized what I was saying as I spoke. 7:23? The alarm hadn’t sounded. “Did you turn off the alarm last night? Does that mean you  _naturally_ woke up at 6:00? Or did it ring and you turned it off before I woke up?” Wait, no that couldn’t have happened because I was a lighter sleeper than Alex. “How the hell did you naturally wake up that early? How much do you sleep?”

Alex was laughing and ticking off his fingers. “So many questions. One, two, three, four, five, six,  _seven._ ”

I smiled sheepishly. “I’m feeling energetic.” Mostly because I was with Alex.

“Yeah,” Alex answered my questions. “I turned off the alarm last night and naturally woke up around 6:20, showered and are. And grabbed coffee.” He added after a pause. I noticed he didn’t answer my last two questions.  _How did he naturally wake up that early_  and  _how much did he sleep._

He gestured to the kitchen. “Help yourself. I’ll go unlock the bathroom s and the like. You’re on lunch duty today, so if you want to help Mr. Heere out this would be a good day. I aim to do a bit of grocery shopping during lunch, so you will not be seeing me then… but maybe I’ll meet you near the picnic tables during recess. And that’s the overview of my plans for today, so I will be off!”

With that he was out the door, whistling. I grinned at his retreating form. Today would be a fun day.

~ ~ ~

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Alex laughed. Miranda vibes all around.

I slid him a tray across the rough wood of the picnic table. “Lunch?”

“Thanks.”

We ate in comfortable silence for a minute, which, of course, I had to break. “Nice spot.” It was a woody scene, trees around us, dirt and pine needles crinkling with every footstep, birdsong peppering the peaceful quiet.

“Yeah. Most of my favorite spots to think are in nature. I occasionally presume they make my writing sound more intelligent.” Alex confessed, gazing up to the treetops.

I shook my head, smiling. “No, I think that’s just you. You’re a very intelligent sounding person.”

Alex blushed, and silence reigned once more.

I was admiring a blue jay when my phone buzzed. I fished it out of my pocket and checked it.

Mother: Hey love, sorry to bother you but I really think you need to come back home. For a day or so. ASAP.

I blinked at the screen for a few seconds before I processed what she’d said. Mother would  _never_  ask me to come back unless it was really urgent, and now I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread. What if Father was getting even more violent? What if Mother was really hurt? What if Junior-

“Hey, are you ok? You look relatively faint. Maybe we should get you back to the orphanage?” Alex’s voice broke through my thoughts again and I jumped.

“No, I mean- yeah, sure, hey Alex, can I borrow your car for a couple days?” I blurted in panic. “I mean- what?”  _John, what the fuck?_

Alex looked startled, still sorting out what I’d just said for a second, but them replied kindly, “Sure. I just went grocery shopping and if I really need anything I can always borrow someone else’s. Do you mind if I inquire why?”

Too rushed to think of any lie or sugar coated truth, I replied in a rush, “I need to get back home. Now.”

Alex looked shocked, then sympathetic. I think he understood that I wasn’t being childish or ridiculous and that I didn’t want to explain. “We can get you a plane ticket, that’ll be faster.” He got uop briskly and we were soon in the car.

Five minutes later we were in Mr. Washington’s office.

“Recommend me a sub.” Mr. Washington had an edge of urgency to his voice. Both men had caught on to my desperation, and were working quickly to help me, no questions asked.

In the middle of my panic, I smiled to myself. This was what it was like having friends.

“James Madison.” Alex shot back, lightning speed. “He teaches a middle school that Mr. Heere’s son attends. He can get a sub for himself easier than we can get a sub for John. He’s qualified, wonderful with children, I’m sure.” He muttered under his breath, “I mean, if he can handle Jeffershit then…”

Alex was clicking and tapping into his computer as he spoke. Muttering, “South Carolina,” He handed me the laptop. “There, enter your city, name, et cetera. We’ll cover the cost.”

“You’ll- no, no, no, I’ll pay. I just need-” I began to protest, but I was briskly cut off my Mr. Washington.

“No, we’ve got you man, don’t sweat it.” I recalled Alex saying the same words to me when we first met and smiled in spite of my panic.

“Thank you,” I managed. Mr. Washington was already calling James Madison, but he acknowledged me with a nod. I handed Alex the computer, having entered my info, and he spoke to me as he finished filling out everything.

“Ok, I’ll drive you there, it’s at 5:00, so you should grab everything you think you’re going to need immediately and we’ll meet you back here in an hour.”

Mr. Washington cut in quickly. “Alex, you can’t we need you to teach. Getting a sub for you is a lot harder because you teach two rigorous classes. I think we’ll have to send Mrs. Murphy. Your kids need you to teach, son, I need you to teach!”

Alex opened his mouth to protest. “But sir-”

“Alex listen, there’s only one way to do this.” Mr. Washington met Alex’s eye and I watched as they silently stared each other down, my heart racing. I was feeling too much right now to truly sort it out, but above the undercurrent of panic, I felt my heart warm at Alex’s determination to help me.

“Or we can get Jefferson to sub for you.” Alex froze, eyes flashing.

I cleared my throat and the two men turned towards me. “Hey. It’s ok. I’ll be fine with Mrs. Murphy.”

Alex stared at me for a moment, then nodded. “Ok, you can go with her. Let’s go get your stuff.”

Walking hurriedly down the hallway, Alex asked worriedly, “Are you positive you’ll be fine? We could arrange something, I’m sure.”

I did want to spend a bit more time with Alex before leaving, but I didn’t want to be too much trouble. “Who’s Jefferson?”

Alex scowled. “An idiot. I don’t trust him with my kids.” He hesitated. “But James might be able to keep Jefferson in check…”

“Alex.” It was sweet how much he worried.

“I could ask him to…”

“Alex,” I entered our dorm. “I’ll be fine.”

“Ok,” Alex bit his lip then nodded, “You just look kind of pale, you know, frightened. I don’t pretend to know the challenges you’re facing, but judging from how you’re acting it’s pretty terrifying.”

“Thanks for caring.” I didn’t know what else to say. “I’m not scared over what will happen, I’m worried about something that has happened.”

“Oh, ok.” Alex looked relieved. “Great. I mean, not great that something bad possibly occurred, but it’s marginally reassuring to know that you probably will be fine.” He smiled. “You ready?”

I nodded, a hastily packed bag in my hand. “I think I’m ready.”

“Ok,” He stepped out. “Here we go.”

I nodded. I was running to make it home and home was where I’d been running away from.

\---Alex’s POV---

John’s eyes stayed wide when I drove him back to the orphanage, and I could feel his urgency radiating off him as I spoke to Washington. I wondered what the text has said, if it hadn’t told him why he needed to get back and yet had created such turmoil.

“How long will you be gone?” I hoped it wouldn’t be long, of course, although I was kind of afraid to address the things I’d said. Like how much I cared that he wouldn’t get hurt.

John tugged one of the chestnut curls I loved so much. “Maybe a say or two? Not long.” He shrugged, but I could tell he wasn’t sure.

“You’ll be back?” I had become attached to John quicker than I realized. John beamed and nodded. I returned the smile and told him tentatively, as we walked towards Mrs. Murphy’s car, “I’ll miss you dearly.” I bit my cheek.  _Dearly?!_

“I’ll miss you too.” John replied simply. Then he turned and hugged me.

He was warm and smelled fresh, like pine needles. His arms were smooth and felt  _so right_  around me. I hugged him back gently, the way I did after pulling him out of Angie’s classroom.

After a couple of seconds I retracted my arms and gently leaned away. “You should go,” I told him reluctantly, so softly it was nearly a whisper. Suddenly realizing how gay I was acting and how utterly unplatonic this entire scenario was becoming, I raised my volume to normal as he stepped back. “You shouldn’t be late for your flight.”

I raised my phone. “Remember to tell me when you’re coming back. We’re paying for you’re flight back.”

“I refuse.”

I shrugged as he closed the car door and rolled down his window. “We’ll compensate.”

John appeared to object but Mrs. Murphy drove away. I waved until the car was only a dot on the road.

~~~

“Jared, sarcasm and comments of that type are quite entertaining but they do not belong in an academic essay. Especially an informative one.” I sighed wearily. Somehow the weight of John’s absence was as perceivable as his bright green eyes despite the fact that he hadn’t been gone long enough for him to actually miss any time during which we’d be available to see each other.

Smirking, Jared drawled, “You’re missing your boyfriend, right? You can just jack off to his insta-”

“Jared, no!” I rubbed my face with my hands to hide my flushed color. “I’m- He’s not my boyfriend, I don’t have his instagram, that’s not what we’re talking about, and I’m not a masturbator.”

“You literally just denied everything  _except_ that you miss him. You’re kind of gay.” Jared smirked.

I knew I was playing right into his hands, but I really wasn’t in the mood. “Jared, you know what, we’re done here. We can discuss this later.”

The bell rang and the class filed out cheerily. My phone began spewing dings.  _Ting! Ting! Ting! Ting! Ting!_  I pulled it out, watching the texts come up, one after another, an endless stream of meaningless chatter.

HelplesslyBi: Alex, u there? U kinda quiet today.

Staayyy: Hey, lets all meet at the cafè yes?

NeverSatisfied: Yes.

NeverSatisfied: I expected you to correct that, Alex, why must I do all your dirty work? Apostrophe Maria.

LockUpYourHorses: Alex, u good? U coming?

A-L-E-X-A-N-D-E-R: Yeah.

GunsAndBaguettes: Wow, brief much?

A-L-E-X-A-N-D-E-R: CU

AndPeggy: HoLy MoThEr oF gAY did Alex just use txt language and disregard PUNCTUATION?!?!?!

I got up and closed up the classroom, then headed off to the café.

“Lord, Alex, you’ve been withdrawn,” Angie observed disapprovingly the moment I stepped into the bright room.

Eliza slid me a cup of coffee, which I received with a smile. “You look kind of down,” she told me, speaking softly. “Why so sad?”

Maria nodded slowly, eyeing me surreptitiously as she sipped her piping coffee. “Where’s your other half?”

I exhaled a long breath and glared at my hot black coffee. “He’s not.” I informed her shortly.

“Who?” Herc butted into the conversation, holding hands with Laf. I wished that was me and John.

I sipped my coffee and sat up straighter. “John Laurens.” The name made me smile.

Peggy laughed. “I love how she said ‘your other half’ and you knew she was talking about Mr. Laurens.” I hated how she said  _Mr. Laurens_. Like he wasn’t part of our group, like we weren’t friendly.

I blushed at her words and said nothing.

“Awww, look at Alex, he blushing!” Maria exclaimed.

Peggy picked it up. “Awww, little Alex is crushing!”  _I’m older than you._  I retorted in my head.

“Ah, yes, John. He is cute, is he not?” Laf wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at me and my color rose. My eyes returned to the cup I held, but I reluctant smile stole across my make. He was. And Laf called him  _John._

Angie plopped down to recline on a chair by my table, which now had formed a semicircle around me. As much as this irritated me, it was pleasant how much they cared and worked to cheer me up.

“Alex, the whole universe know you like him and it’s only been a few days.

_What?! “Everyone?”_

Peggy, Maria, and Herc laughed. Eliza gazed at me sympathetically. “You really thought we had no idea, huh?”

“John does not know.” Laf interjected knowledgeably. I failed to hide my enormous relief.

“So where is John?” Peggy smiled, for once stopping her playful, rowdy jokes.

“He got a text telling him he needed to go home.” I answered truthfully, gratified that they were using his first name and that they weren’t teasing me about the subject. Yet. “South Carolina.” I added hastily, an attempt to reengage. I felt somewhat remorseful about the short answers I’d thrown angrily at them.

A communal feeling and look of dismay passed through the group and I felt a rush of gratitude for their unhappiness on my behalf.

“How long?” Maria asked worriedly.

I smiled. “Only a day or two. Or, in any case, that’s what he was informed. However, from his expression when he told me as much, I can infer that it may take longer and it’s largely unpredictable.”

Everyone grinned or smiled. “Thank god.” Peggy mimed a prayer. “Alex is back to his long, wordy sentences.”

Several of us, including I laughed. It felt good to hand out with them. I certainly regretted being so withdrawn the last few days. Then I remembered the amazingness of spending time with John and I didn’t feel nearly so regretful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the school work is kind of crushing my whole life under it's weight. I am SO SORRY but I'm going to have to start publishing less. It's been about 2 chapters a week, now I'm going to take it down several notches. Not NOW but SOON. Maybe once every two weeks.   
> But please, if you enjoy the fic, keep reading. I will NEVER entirely cease to update. I have already established that once a month is the lowest I will ever go, hopefully not even there. LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!


	22. Bi and Gay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boyfs talk about the earlier discovery of bruises...

\---Michael’s POV---

When I came back the next morning, Jere pounced on me like a cat. Probably my fault for ignoring all his texts.

“Who did it? Micha please. Someone hurt you and as your best friend I reserve the right to a wimpy revenge attack.” Jeremy looked so vehement, my heart did a little cartwheel. He cared! About me! Best friend though…

“Do we have to talk about this right now?” What if he hated me? I didn’t want to be a complete loner. Or, more specifically, I was ok with being a loner if he was with me. If he wasn’t with me I really just would rather not  _ be. _

“Yeah, well, I mean,” Jeremy swallowed, and I watched his adam’s apple bob. He reddened and looked down, sounding sad. “If you don’t want to tell me, I guess, you know, that’s chi-fine, but I-I don’t know. I’m worried.” He looked away, which was great because I was blushing as red as a goddamn cherry right now. “I fucking care about you, you know?”

And my heart just fucking left. “Well, fine, but, I just would rather keep it between us?”

“Sure bro. Just you and me, that’s all that we need it to be.” Aw hell, he had no idea now that made my gay soul skip.

“So my dad-”

“Is an asshole.”

“Yeah, so-” I took a deep breath and stopped walking. “Jeremy.”

“Yeah bruh?” He stopped, turning to me. It must’ve been my tone or some shit.

“I- I’m fucking gay.” My heart stopped the second the words left my mouth. I stopped breathing, the whole world froze.

Jeremy’s cheeks flushed and he looked at me sideways. “You’re gay?” he repeated wonderingly.

I gulped and nodded, and suddenly needed to breathe double time. My heart beat extra fast and my breath came short, in gasps.

“Cool.” Jere said finally. “I’m fucking bi.”

“That’s lit.”  _ Wait, what? _

 

\---Jeremy’s POV---

I literally slept two hours last night, worrying about Micha. Who the fuck gave him those bruises? I was really mad at them, but I didn’t know who the hell they were. I needed someone to direct my anger at.

**PlayerTwo:** Hey Micha

What if they beat him up because of me? I knew there were people happy that Micha had brought that Mountain Dew Red that night, but there were still idiots who thought that they were better off with a SQUIP. They didn’t see how amazing Michael was.

**PlayerTwo:** H

                   E

                   Y

                   Micha

If that was why, it would be my fault if he was hurt, because I was the one who had the SQUIP.

**PlayerTwo:** Bro u good?

After all, I put him through, he saved me.

**PlayerTwo:** sorry about today, that was kinda messed up

Very messed up. I mean, I remember that night, I just might regret that night for the rest of my days.

**PlayerTwo:** Understatement. Very shitty of me. Sorry.

The SQUIP was off and I called him a  _ loser. _ Micha! A  _ loser _ ! Some might think so but  _ I _ knew he was the most amazing person I’d ever met.

**PlayerTwo:** I just wanted to know what was wrong

My favorite person. Ever. Bi much?

**PlayerTwo:** So who beat u up?

I imagined myself bursting into some kid’s house, grabbing a bat and kicking in the door. With some random newfound power I would beat the fucking shit out of them.

**PlayerTwo:** And y?

And Michael would be amazed and grateful and suddenly realize he liked me a lot.

**PlayerTwo:** Was it bc of me?

Except in reality I’d burst into the house after a lot of struggling, get my ass beat, and Michael would worriedly fuss over me.  _ Oh fuck, Jeremy, what the hell happened buddy? _

**PlayerTwo:** Please tell me.

Which would also be ok, really. It occured to me that I was spamming him with texts and he probably did  _ not _ want to talk about it. I scrolled up. Ten fucking texts.

**PlayerTwo:** Sorry for spamming u, just hella worried

I got no response and when I got up the next morning, my phone was empty of notifications.

That morning, after maybe jacking off to Michael’s instagram and debating whether I should take the bus or walk instead, I managed to catch Michael before we entered school.

I begged him to tell me what and blurted out that I cared about him. In a very gay way. Yeah. Not good.

“Well, fine,” Michael finally gave in, and I swear the clouds parted and the sun shone and the whole world got happy. “But I just would rather keep it between us?”

Why did my mind twist everything Micha said so it sounded gay? Of course, I had to go and make it worse. “Sure bro. Just you and me, that’s all that we need it to be.” What the heck is wrong with me?

Micha didn’t seem phased. He was probably too straight to even think of it like that.

“So my dad-” Dammit, his dad was an ignorant pile of shit.

“Is an asshole.” My dad was better and he marched around wearing no pants. Except for the play. During which Michael saved me.

“Yeah. So- Jeremy.” Something in Michael’s smooth voice changed, from casual talk to serious. The last time I heard him speak this seriously was not a night I wanted to remember. He stopped walking so I did too.

I didn’t really know what to say to prompt him onwards, so I just said, “Yeah bruh?” and cringed. I sounded so ghetto.

“I-I’m fucking gay.”

_ WHAT?! _ The world turned upside down in an instant and I was so shocked and flooded with happiness and excitement and shock that I could do nothing but look at him through the corner of my eye and repeat, trying not to sound too happy, “You’re gay?” My voice cracked. Shit.

It was too good to be true. I subtly pinched myself, wondering at the sharp sting. If he was gay I had a chance, however small. Whoa. I was stuck to the corner like a streetlight.

He nodded, looking afraid, and I realized he was probably watching my reaction. I hurried to assure him I was completely fine with it. “Cool,” I told him, and before I could stop myself, I added quickly, “I’m fucking bi.”

Where did that dumbass confession come from? Now he’d know why I was so gay around him and abandon me. Although a tiny voice in my head pointed out that he never had even though I abandoned him.

Which I still hadn’t forgiven myself for. I bit my lip and glared at nothing, waiting for him to shove me away, but he just laughed.

“Whoa. Shit dude, I had no idea. I-  _ fuck _ \- whoa.” He seemed incredulous, amazed, and not at all disgusted.

He hadn’t figured it out yet. Good.  _ You think you’re good?  _ Snickered a voice in my head.  _ Just you wait. It’s only a matter of time. _

“That,” I told him, gesturing to his dumbstruck expression, “was my reaction to you’re confession.”  _ Confession. _ Shit, it sounded like it was a bad thing. Or a love confession. When would I learn to say what I meant without fucking it up?

“Anyway,” I shot out quickly, “You were saying?”

“Well,” Micha continued, picking up where he left off, “my dad beats me. Because I told him I’m gay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all for reading!! And yeah, I'll have to downgrade my publishing schedule so I understand if you, like don't think it's worth waiting that long, I' so sorry.


	23. Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John goes home to what's wrong.  
> Warnings: Abuse.

\---John’s POV---

As I stepped out of the airport and hailed a taxi, I realized I was shaking and I mentally scolded myself.  _ Breathe. _

Slowly I stepped out of the taxi, tipping generously. My house was at the end of the block, and I recognise the faces that were asleep the night I left. Maybe it was me, but it all seemed like lifetimes ago. So what could I say to these faces that I used to know?  _ Hey I’m home _ ?

This was my street, I smiled at the neighbors. What would my parents say? I feared my mother telling me what was wrong. I feared my father who had much in store for me, I was sure, since I left without his permission.

I also was afraid for my brother. Maybe he was the one hurt… He was 16, the age I was when I told Father I was gay… and got beaten.

As people waved, I straightened my spine, smiling for the neighbors.  _ Everything’s fine, everything’s cool. _

As cool on the outside as I was scared on the inside.  _ John, just breathe. _ Afraid Father would be the one to open the door, I pulled my phone our and tremblingly texted Mother.

**John:** I’m home

**Mother:** You’re finally hooommme!

Mother always found a way to be so happy, or at least, she put on a happy front for me. I didn’t even realize she was acting until I was around 19 and immediately hated myself for not noticing. 

A few minutes later the heavy oak doors opened quietly, and I gathered it wasn’t Mother who was hurt. She looked fine, except for a few bruises, which was typical.

“ _ Mother. _ ” She held open her arms and I hugged her tightly, wincing as she returned my hug, pressing my bruises. I felt her shifting in my arms as I brushed hers, but we held so tight, I could barely breathe.  _ Breathe _ . I reminded myself.

“My son.” She pulled back and studied my face like we hadn’t seen each other in years. It had been a few hours less than a week. She smirked. “You have a crush.”

“ _ Mother! _ ” Like that, the solemn, grave atmosphere evaporated.

“I can tell. Come in.” She slipped her shoes off and stepped back inside. I followed her, gazing around at the sparklingly clean surfaces of the open, airy room. 

The decoration, as always, seemed overdone, the air, as usual, smelled sharply clean, with a comfy furniture scent form embroidered pillows and soft couches.

I was, as usual, broken with the tint of alcohol that floated about, a persistent reminder of Father.

Speaking of which… “Where’s Father?” A servant shut the door behind us and I started, but Mother reassured me.  _ It’s ok, it’s ok. Breathe. _

“He’ll be home in… half an hour?” As soon as she began to trail off I pulled out my phone, pressing home. I flashed her the time and her eyes widened. “Make that ten minutes,” she corrected herself.

“So,” I looked around for Junior. “What’s going on?”

Mother gestured to a couch and I sank into it, missing the more cozy feel of the orphanage’s armchairs. “Your younger brother greatly admires you.” I smiled proudly. “He often follows your example on what to do about problems he has.” I nodded, unsure where this was going.

“Yes?” I prompted her after she gazed out the window for a couple of seconds.

She sighed, continuing, “And secrets.” I raised my eyebrows, but said nothing. “John,” she started abruptly, shifting as her tone did the same, “do you remember when you came out to me and Henry?” She flinched as she said his name.

A small flicker of dread crept into my heart as I followed this path where I hoped it wouldn’t lead. I felt my body constrict.  _ Breathe. _ I told myself.  _ Maybe you’re reading this all wrong. _

“Yeah,” I replied softly. “We played piano.”

Mother smiled at the memory. “I taught you piano.”

“It was a love song… one from the girl’s point of view, to a guy.” I blushed as I remembered this. “I-I sang the words as I played the notes.” Mother nodded. “Father said to say _ she _ not  _ he _ though that wasn’t the lyrics because-” I broke off and stared at my hands.

“So you told us.” Softly, mother took my hand and squeezed it. “How old were you?”

I bit my lip fiercely. “ _ Sixteen _ .” My throat tightened.  _ Breathe. _

“And so is…”

“Junior.” I looked at her, my eyes begging her to tell me I was wrong, that I was assuming things, but she just looked back at me, eyes sparkling with tears. “Did he…”

“Yes.” she whispered simply. She cleared her throat. “He said you already knew.” I nodded. “How long have you known?”

I counted the weeks. “A month or so?” I remembered him coming out to me and this time it was my heart that tightened.  _ Breathe. _

Mother looked weary and hurt. “John you should’ve told me.” I stared back, for once in disagreement.

“I’m not sorry.” I looked at my hands. “He wasn’t ready to tell you, and I wasn’t going to push him. I told him to keep it in, I promise, but-” I looked up. “He has every right to show who he and be proud of who he is.”

Mother nodded in understanding. “Yes. Actually…” she looked almost sheepish. “That’s why I asked you here. I can’t bear to see him so  _ hurt _ , he’s normally so  _ happy _ , I hoped you could convince him to do something to make Henry stop. Make him- or-  _ ask _ him to pretend he’s straight around his father, not to hide out of shame, just to he won’t get hurt  _ please _ -” She had a few tears streaming down her face and I blinked back a couple of my own.  _ Oh god _ .  _ This is happening. _ I took a shaking breath.  _ Breathe. _

“I’ll do what I can.” I promised her, feeling as desperate, “but I can’t promise anything. He’s naturally proud of who he is and doesn’t like hiding it.”

Mother looked up the stairs, in the direction of the room Junior stayed in. “Yes.” she sighed. “I know.”

Often, Junior was beat up at school. Or, well, not  _ often _ , but more than the other kids. He was, in their eyes, a loser. Junior didn’t care. He flaunted his differences. I was afraid he would do the same with being gay around Father.

“They had a screaming fight.” Mother told me as I walked up the stairs. “He doesn’t like  _ Junior _ because it makes him a miniature of his father, something he doesn’t want. Nor do we. He likes his middle name.” I nodded. “His friends have already been calling him Michael for years.”

I smiled. I liked the name  _ Michael _ . I’d wanted to call him something other than  _ Junior _ for a while now.  _ Michael _ was perfect.

_ Breathe _ . I told myself as I wal ked to his bedroom door. But I couldn’t help but hold my breath as I held my hand up to knock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many of you saw that coming?


	24. Breathe Reprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So John goes to talk to Michael, and their family asshole comes back... tears and punches ensue. So yeah, WARNING: ABUSE

\---Michael’s POV---

Mom made my injuries such a big deal, and I really didn’t think I was hurting that much. Huffing, I popped my headphones on and cranked up Bob Marley. I’d just began to reach for my stash of weed when the door opened.

Groaning, I paused my music and slipped off my earphones, covering my stash casually with a pale slip of paper.

“Sorry, you don’t have to hide that, it’s just me.” John chuckled and I gasped. “You didn’t hear me knock…”

The world’s best brother. “Just you?” I breathed. I jumped up and hugged him tight, and then pulled back immediately out of instinct. “Ah-sorry.”

“John let out a breath and sat down on my messy bed. “You forgot I don’t have bruises anymore. Much. Or severe ones.” He lifted his checkered blue and white shirt. The bruises had faded after only a bit more than a week.

I beamed. The best shape I’d ever seen him in in a fucking long time. Then my smile slipped as I realized- “You’re home. Is your job-? Jere said it’s a great-”

“No. My job is fine.” I breathed a sigh of relief. “I stopped getting bruises.” I nodded. “I hear you’re getting them now.”

I stopped short. “You’re here because of  _ me _ ? Go the fuck back!” Now I felt bad.

John’s curls bounced loosely around his face as he shook his head. “Nope. I can already see that’s not an option.”

“Wha-?” I suddenly realized my hood had come off with my headphones and I hunched my shoulders, trying to hide my face even though it was clearly too late. I tried anyway, “I’m fine.”

“Michael, can we just be transparent here?”  _ Michael. _ How the fuck did he know I preferred that now?

Anything to change the subject. I pounced on it. “How’d you know I like Michael? The fu-?”

“Not falling for it.”

Shit. Well then. “What the fuck do you want me to do?”

John stared at his pale hands and blinked his green eyes. I had a sinking feeling that I knew what he’d say.

“Father-”

I snorted. “He doesn’t deserve that.”

John smiled faintly. “He beats you. Because you’re gay.”

I let out a long ass breath.  _ Breathe. _ “Because I’m gay.”  **(If you haven’t watched Sincerely Gay… WTF are you doing with your life?)**

John’s face fell, and he continued, “I hate to ask this… but-” He lay back and stared at the ceiling. “Michael, there’s nothing wrong with being gay.” he told me suddenly. I shook my head. I knew it. “But for your own good- you can act as gay as you want anywhere, and you should never  _ ever _ be ashamed of it or try to hide it-”

“I won’t pretend to be straight.”

“Please, Junior-” John’s was apologetic, a mess, he looked pathetic.

“Michael.”

“Sorry- Michael. Just so you aren’t hurt.” He tugged a corkscrew curl and it bounced lightly. Fuck no.

“No. I’m not ashamed of it, and I don’t give a fuck if he beats the crap out of me everyday. He won’t change me.”

John’s first tear fell, but he brushed it away angrily. “No, he won’t but just let him think he-”

“No!” I stood up firmly. “I won’t let him beat my down to dust, I know that there’s a place for us.”

John smiled at the  _ us. _ Score! He seemed more hesitant to argue, “Michael, I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I told you,” I said stubbornly, “I don’t give a fuck. This is brave, this is bruised, this is who I’m meant to be.  _ This is me _ .”

John was reluctantly smiling through his tears now.

“Well,” he spoke finally, sounding choked, “I tried.” And he was out the door.

I hesitated and headed downstairs behind him, checking my phone.  _ Shit. _ The asshole would be here soon.

_ Bam _ . “I hope I’m coming home to a f****t free-”

“Bitch!” My pitch was embarrassingly high. But he didn’t see me. I could’ve stayed right there or disappeared, and nobody would even notice at all.

John was staring at his dad. Both were motionless. 

John swallowed.

Dad launched himself at John. Deadass speed demon.

“Henry!”

“You little- fuck- you idiot, you taught Junior to be a fag, huh?” Punch. Punch. Punch. Kick. A sickening rhythm.  _ John _ .  _ Breathe. _ “I knew John would-”

I shook my head so fast I could’ve snapped my fucking neck. “No he fucking didn’t, sexuality isn’t taught you ignor-”

John’s eyes, which had been squeezed tight, popped open. “Michael, just stop. He’ll-”

“Michael?” Henry snarled. Then he snickered. “Good. No f****t is named after me.”

John’s eyes shut again and he was up against the railing to the grand staircase. Dad wasn’t paying any attention to him, throwing his punches while looking at me.  _ Holy mother fucker- _

I darted forward, but not fast enough.

“Henry-!” Mom’s scream was late as well.

_ Bam _ . The punch hit John’s head, sending him backwards.

Over the railing.

I looked at dad. This motherfucker didn’t even look remorseful. “Michael,” he sneered with a sadistic smile, “is all that fag’s fault.”

The way he said my name made me hate myself. I hated him more. I started forward but mom was in front of me in a flash. “No, please,” Her voice broke.

“John-” My voice wavered too.  _ Micha _ , as Jere would call me,  _ breathe _ .

“I’ll get him to the hospital.” And she did.

And our ignorant prick of a father turned to me.

“Wait-” I took a shaking breath. He thought my gayness was John’s fault. John was being carried out of the room because of  _ me. _ “I’m sorry.”

He looked confused.  _ Damn, this bitch is hella slow. _ “You should be. Boys like girls, girls like boys. You’re fucking disfunct-”

“This was just a sad invention.” My mouth was dry. “It wasn’t real.”  _ Breathe. _

“Huh?” Goddamn.

“I never meant to make it such a mess.” I widened my eyes and tried to look like a timid anime girl. “I never thought that it would go this far.”

“What the hell are you talking about?

“Dad.” I tried my hardest to sound hella exasperated and not like my soul was dying. “I’m not gay. I thought it would be funny to pretend because you hate those-” my voice broke “-freaks.”

“You,” he gaped, sounding astonished, “you were making fun of the homos?” He said  _ homos _ so viciously I felt a pang remembering how I’d joked online in response to “ _ no homo _ ,” “ _ All the homo!” _

I choked out the shittiest laugh. “I thought you’d get it.” he wouldn’t hurt John if I had anything to say about it. I just had to get this right.

His scratchy, filthy laugh echoed in the open room of our house. His grin stretched. “You’re not one of those,” his grin twisted into a disgusted snarl, freaks?” 

I reminded myself to breathe.

“Father,” I replied simply, looking him in the eye and hoping he couldn’t see that see that the words I was saying was tearing my heart to shreds, “what are the fucking chances of h aving two f****ts in a true conservative household?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....Sorry?


	25. John Laurens is Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John comes back with clear evidence of his bruises, and this triggers concern among many of the Hamilsquad.

\---Alex’s POV---

“John’s back.” Angelica didn’t sound happy about it, although I couldn’t imagine why. This was the moment we’d waited for.

I didn’t care. I was happy as- as- a nerd in a library. I shot out the door and flung myself down the hallway. “John?”

“Hey alex!” He sounded overjoyed. I rounded the corner and stopped short, my initial elation lost.

Bruises sprinkles his face like dry leaves in the fall marring his perfect, freckled skin. One eye was black, and laced with red veins.

And his arm was broken.

“John,” I whispered, “what the hell happened?”

John just shrugged. “I fell out of a tree.”

 

\---John’s POV---

I knew I looked terrible. But like Michael said,  _ this is brave, this is bruised, this is who I’m meant to be. _

_ This is me. _ And I didn’t care, I was too happy right now.

For one, Michael would be ok. I’d gotten word he was pretending to be straight. It hurt to know, but I knew he’d survive. His spirit could preserve itself inside. His body could not. He was so strong and proud no matter what he pretended to be.

For two, I was back and alive, despite having fallen pretty far. Being alive is a good thing.

Three, I was with Alex. Like not  _ with _ with Alex but I got to see him every day. I’d missed him for the couple of days I’d been gone.

And four, Alex sounded really concerned. Which meant he cared, although it did mean I’d need to explain. I stepped forward and hugged him.

“Good to have you back,” Alex sighed into my shoulder, my heart fluttering.

“Glad to be back,” I replied earnestly. I bit my lip, then asked, “Coffee?”

~~~

“You ain’t got no skills!”

“Alex!”

“Yo, lemme get a-”

“Milky way.”

“Yeah, lemme also get a-”

“John’s back?”

“Yes.”

“That’s wonderfu- Oh dear, what happened?” Eliza rushed over, handing Alex what he always ordered. “Who-”

I shook my head. This time my smile was fake. “Not who, what.” She handed me my regular, which I took with my right hand, my left being in a cast.

“He says he fell out of a tree.”  _ Says. _ Was I that obvious? Alex was looking at Eliza significantly. I sipped my coffee as casually as I could.

Eliza looked at me. “How did you break your arm?” I swallowed. I could do this. I  _ could.  _ “How did you break your arm, John?”

I shrugged again. “I fell.”

She looked concerned. “Really? Is that what happened?

I nodded unconvincingly. “I was, I lost my grip and I- I fell.”

I bit each word, but I got it out.

Eliza rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well obviously not. I’m calling Maria.”

Alex grinned. “Thank you ‘Liza.”

Um, what? “Wait, I don’t get it, what’s going on?” I was afraid they were going to turn me in or report me, but  _ Maria _ ? I smiled at Sally, taking my change and turning to Alex. “What’s going on?”

“Pardon me, but you don’t have any intentions of educating children with that work of art on your face, do you?”

“She’s doing your makeup.” Sally told me knowledgeably.  _ Makeup? _ Still, I smiled with relief. 

Eliza gave me a wink. “She’s really good.”

Maria sauntered up to Eliza, pecking her lips.  _ Wait, are they a thing? _ “Thanks hon.” Well, that settled that. “But it’s kind of disappointing to know you don’t think it’s my natural beauty.” She eyed me and then froze. “...Sally?”

“Yeah,” Sally’s voice was soft and quiet, something sad conveyed in her tones. I realized I’d barely heard her speak before, other than a minute ago. “Looks familiar.” What did that mean?

“Same thoughts, same thoughts,” Peggy called to Sally from the corner, pointing to herself and Sally and winking at her. Sally flushed. Peggy answered my unspoken question bluntly. “You look like Sally did when Jeffershit beat the hell out of her. How’d you break your arm again?”

Wait, what? Too much to process at once. First, Sally had been beat up by Jeffershit. Second, my bruises looked like those. Third, my broken arm was also apparently an unbelievable story.

I didn’t know how to respond. Answering the question was out.  _ Oh, my dad was beating me up and accidentally punched me over the railing of a high staircase. Which, incidentally, is the source of my bruises. No biggie. _ Ha. “You, uh, do you live in that corner, or…?”

Wow. John. Wow.

Peggy just smirked at me. “Yeah,” she drawled, “I like the people.”

An alarm sounded form Alex’s phone and he interrupted our conversation, to me immense relief. “Lunch and recess is over soon,” he informed us, “I recommend we proceed with the makeover if we have intentions of making it back in a timely fashion.”

“Ok,” I sighed. I’d never worn makeup, or had it applied, ever. Guess why. Or, I guess, guess who.

 

\---Alex’s POV---

I was pretty damn sure John had been beat up my someone back at his home. I didn’t want to be pushy, but if someone was hurting him, they needed to pay.

The bell rang and we parted ways to our respective classrooms, but I called firmly after him, “I’ll talk to you tonight.”

I intended to get answers.

 

\---Angelica’s POV---

“Alright, remember I told you all to think about what to get the new teacher, Mr. Laurens?” Murmurs of confirmation told me to continue. “Today you’ll get 20 minutes of this period to get whatever you planned.”

Alana raised her had. No surprise there. “What if what we plan to get isn’t sold where we go?”

Good, I planned for this. I already had a plan in place, but I didn’t want to give a lecture, so I had hoped people would ask. “Peggy and Maria will be joining us, along with someone else. Who here has met Miss Sally?”

“Uh, yeah, she’s freakishly quiet sometimes, so she’s pretty awesome.”

“Jared no one asked-”

“I beg to differ, you did indeed ask-”

“Hey.” Evan, my hero. “Jared. I- I… Freakishly quiet…” he was blushing and playing with the hem of his shirt nervously.

Jared, pink, looked at Evan shyly but firmly. “And pretty awesome.”

I clapped my hands. “Ok, let’s go.”

We walked over to the coffee shop, kids running all over the place. Miraculously, the head count showed we managed to keep everyone together. After a good 5 minutes, we formed vague groups. We actually didn’t need as many different groups as we thought (Jared wasn’t planning on fast food after all), so Peggy and Sally were lumped together.

As we split up, finally moving towards our separate locations, I heard Jared chattering away.

“And we’re off, to the great unknown. Dud, if there’s one thing about Miss Sally: the lady’s so quiet. Actually, no, wait,  _ you’re _ quiet…”

Uhg. I was  _ so  _ glad he wasn’t in my group.

 

\---Jared’s POV---

I was _ so  _ psyched for this trip, honestly. Other than Evan, I had two loves of my life: memes and bathbombs. Bathbombs, of course, because I love the cronch. When you bite into it, it’s just cronchy perfection.

Anyhoo. It had been far too long since my last bathbomb. Like,  _ months. _ It was scary.

Actually, I did have one hidden away, but I wasn’t going to eat that one. 

There was one day where I was acting all angsty and stuff because I hadn’t had a bathbomb in a while. So somehow Evan managed to get his hands on one and gave it to me. He was so adorable. Of course, then I couldn’t eat it because

  1. It was from Evan and I had to keep it forever
  2. It was pine flavored (scented, they say) and it smelled like him
  3. It was from Evan
  4. How could I eat something from Evan?
  5. I would keep it forever.



Now I was really desperate. I needed another bathbomb, and  _ soon. _

Which was why I was  _ so _ ready for today. I had formulated a plan, which was:

  1. Buy bathbombs with this money
  2. Give them to Mr. Laurens
  3. Hack a random facility computer to find out his dorm room
  4. Go there during the night and take them
  5. Uh, eat them, duh.



I think Angelica had a hunch about my bathbomb affair, so I was more than relieved that Miss Sally was taking us. Usually Peggy would be a problem but-

“Girl, you wanna, like, go check out the makeup isle or some shit- I mean, something?”

That. I couldn’t believe Sally didn’t notice Peggy was hitting on her. Peggy was  _ not  _ slick. Sally just blushed, giggled, and agreed. God.

So oblivious, I could scream. Those two were practically already a couple.

Speaking of which… “Yo, Evan!”

Mr. Adorable looked at me, eyes wide like a deer. “What are you thinking of?”

Ah, lord save me, he was beautiful. Of course, he didn’t really care about me. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, stuttering about getting a small, compact house plant in a small pot.

Honestly. Too cute.

Zoe and Alana skipped by, hand in hand. Uhg. Why did girls get to hold hands but guys couldn’t? I settled for sticking to Evan like glue.

“Bro, come with me to get Mr. Green Eyes some bathbombs.” I felt bad asking him to stay with me all the time, but let’s be honest: I couldn’t part with him.

“Jared, these are for, they’re for Mr. Laurens, not, they’re not for you.” Evan protested.

I shot him a devious grin. “Not for long.” Evan looked alarmed and shook his head wordlessly. “Sorry, should I not have told you? Plausible deniability…”

“C-c-c-come on, Jared, let’s go.”

I complied. Neither chaperone gave a fuck that I was buying bright pink bathbombs for a teacher.

Let’s be real. Pink berry is a pretty good flavor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you all for reading, you are amazing!! I hope this longer chapter is an adequate apology for less publishing. unfortunately, the rest of the chapters will mostly be normal length.


	26. Makeup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much Sally and Peggy in the store, as they let the children buy their little presents.

\---Peggy’s POV---

It was funny to see all the little kids running around the store, carrying their gifts like treasures. It’s the thought that counts, I guess. But I really only had eyes for Sally. I had liked her for a couple years in high school, but it was a casual crush. So casual I didn’t even know it was a crush, because I was having a hard time, shall we say, figuring myself out. Panromantic bisexual is a hard thing to really figure out and officiate.

I dabbed at the makeup sample. Wasn’t makeup a true gift? I wouldn’t survive without doing my eyebrows every morning. “What do you think?” I wiggled my eyebrows at Sally, hoping she liked it. I was rather proud of this particular look.

Sally gazed at me quietly for a moment before she said in her soft little voice, “You look good. Like, you do, really.” Oh, she was so angelic! That was a pretty high compliment coming from her.

I smiled, miming a coy, seductive woman, and dropped the act when Sally lowered her eyes mosdestly. Damn. If I had manners like that… Oh well.

“Hey,” I suggested, “Lemme do you.” I laughed at Sally’s alarmed expression.

“Who- me?” She actually looked behind her.

“Don’t read me wrong, girl, you’re hella cute. But. I wanna try.” I bit my lip.  _ Hella cute _ might’ve been too far.

“I don’t know…” Sally looked nervous. “I don’t usually use that much makeup.”

I’d noticed. I noticed a lot of things about her lately. Ever since the Jefferson thing, I’d been wondering if my crush had been coming back. Normally, I’d enjoy teasing girls but with Sally I was more sensitive of her feelings. For some reason, I felt bad making her uncomfortable.

“It’ll be fine,” I assured her, trying to sound soothing, which is not my strong point.

“...The kids?” Sally asked responsibly, looking around. “We shouldn’t lose them.”

I rolled my eyes. “They don’t need supervision for 10 minutes. That’s all I need.” I looked at her for permission. 

Sally closed her eyes.

“Yes, girl, I love you!”

Shit, that sounded gay.

 

\---Sally’s POV---

I tried not to blush as I replayed Peggy and I speaking to each other…  _ You’re hella cute… Yes girl, I love you. _ Dammit. Just friend talk.

I needed to calm down before Peggy had to switch shades to accommodate my blush.  _ Remember _ :  _ You can’t let anyone know you’re not straight. You can’t get into a relationship.  _ If I did, that person would definitely be beaten up by Thomas.

I wished I could fix that I wasn’t sure how. Lord, I felt so helpless.

Oh, her hand was cupping my cheek. Gently, more softly than I figured most of Peggy acted. I felt the gentle strokes of a brush on my lids and a minute later something fiddled with my eyelashes. I was so scared to see how I turned out. What if I looked hideous, like a witch? I knew I wasn’t pretty, but I didn’t use makeup because I didn’t think it would help. It would just showcase the fact that I was trying- and failing- to look good.

I remembered Jefferson used to tell me to put on makeup, because I didn’t look good enough. Then he told me I looked like a whore. But if I didn’t wear makeup, well, let’s just say the next day I’d  _ have  _ to wear makeup. I would have a couple things I would need to cover.

Peggy withdrew her hand. “Aand, done.” I felt her hand come back before I could open my eyes. “Wait…” A couple more swipes. “Wait…” She let go again. “Lemme just get a mirror. You keep your eyes closed. Wait for it… wait for it…”

I waited.

“Okay!” My eyes fluttered open and nearly popped out of my head. I looked… well, I didn’t mean to sound conceited but-

“I’m beautiful.”

Peggy giggled. “Right you are. You’re a stunner alright.”

Peggy had applied very subtle makeup, quietly downplaying my flaws and calling attention to my better features without showing that they were on display. It still looked like I had barely any makeup on but I looked way better.

“What’d you do?” I asked, bewildered. Peggy just shrugged nonchalantly. 

“Not much. I can teach you, if ya want.” She snapped her gum and gave me a sideways glance.

Maybe I was paranoid, but I caught the flaw in that plan right away. We’d have to go to one of our houses. Together. I couldn’t.

I scrambled for an understandable excuse, and dodged the invitation, saying lamely, “We better round up the kids, time’s up.”

Peggy looked a little hurt, but played it off as mock offense. I felt pretty bad. “Well, you dazzle any room, makeup or not, so…” She laughed. I felt worse.

Then I saw something that made me forget Peggy. My breath caught, my chest hurt, and I closed my eyes as if not seeing it would make it go away.

Fluffy, dense, curls.

Thomas.

“Yo girl, are you goo- oh.” I felt a hand tug mine, pulling me back. U limply let myself stumble, eyes still sealed as if with glue. My foot slapped the carpeted floor, and I felt Peggy’s… chest against my back as she steadied me, wrapping her arms round my figure.

“Sorry,” I murmured as I stood.

Both of Peggy’s arms wrapped around my own. “Sally,” she breathed quietly, “Hey.” I blushed as her warm breath floated across my cheek. “Can you open your eyes?”

I let them open for the second time in the last 3 minutes and steadied my breathing.

Peggy pointed down the narrow isle lined with makeup brands. “Bathroom.” It was only one word, but it was all I needed. I could hear Thomas’s-  _ Jefferson’s _ footsteps getting nearer.

Or maybe it was the thudding of my heart. Or the slap of my own steps as I dashed away.

 

\---Peggy’s POV---

Sally’s gorgeous self disappeared around the corner of the isle right as Jefferson appeared on the other end, looking angry. Unsure if he’d seen her, I met his eyes rebelliously.

Looking past his guard, I thought he might’ve been a bit uncertain. His voice didn’t sound so as he stated, “I heard someone else.”

Wow. Way to cut to the chase. I gave him a  _ so?  _ Look. “…Good for you.”

Jeffershit’s eyes narrowed. “Sally’s voice.”

I responded with a cool shrug, internally cussing him out. “Cool.”

“Where’d she go?”

I fired back, “Why are you looking for her, stalker?” I knew it was truly idiotic to pick a fight with Jeffershit, but if he wanted to lay a finger on Sally he could catch these hands.

“I was here looking for Jemmy.” Looking surprised at himself for blurting that out, Jeffershit barreled on, “Where is she?”

“Who?”

He looked furious. And frustrated. Furiously frustrated.

Too fucking bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!


	27. Float or Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is Thomas and James, enjoy!

\---Thomas’ POV---

Jemmy and I had yet another argument about being a f****t. I wasn’t, I swore, and he stormed out. I had to track him down, tell him… I didn’t know what I’d tell him when I caught him, but I needed him back.

He was my best friend!

Everywhere I looked touched something in me that stung like hell.

A lesbian couple getting coffee together. “Thank’s Usnavi!” _ F****ts. _

“Hey, you! You seen a quiet black dude with-” I spoke through a grimace at Daniela and Carla.

“Madison? James Madison?” Usnavi cut me off, his eyes cold. “Nope.”

A young man slid in from behind me, a backwards baseball cap on. Usnavi rolled his eyes.

“Sonny, ya late.” He smirked.

“Chillax,” Sonny replied to his cousin, jumping over the counter with ease. “You know you love me.”

_ Good, _ I thought.  _ A strong, properly masculine man _ . I almost smiled. Someone like him wouldn’t be a-

“Not as much as I do.” A guy in the shop door with a tanktop and a blush spoke up. A spray can in one hand…

“Graffiti Pete?” I blurted in disgust. I looked at Usnavi, who smiled.  _ What?! _ I swore, everyone-

“We’re official now.”

_ Uhg _ ! I stormed out.

I glared at the menu. I refused to meet this  _ Schuyler, _ this  _ lesbian’s _ eye. “Have you seen James-”

“Reynolds? No. Good riddance.” Maria Lewis finished. I eyed everything but the two girls  _ kissing _ . They were being noisy on  _ purpose. _

“ _ Madison _ ,” I growled, teeth gritted. “F*gg-” they stopped kissing. Good.

“Out.” Angelica.

The whole world was against me.

“Why the fuck are you defending these-”

“Excuse me, you aren’t ordering anything so step out of my way, and leave this building. I need to go teach my morning class and I need my coffee.”

I slammed my hand on the counter forcefully. “ _ Have you seen James Madison? _ ”

Without missing a beat, Maria slapped a large accounting book onto the counter, as if swatting a fly, and I had to yank my hand back to avoid getting crushed. Damn, these freaks were unfriendly.  **(Books are weapons, they are.)**

I guessed it made sense that Maria used force. I mean, she liked girls. She was basically a guy.

“ _ Pardon me. _ ” Angelica stepped smoothly around me, stomping my my foot as she left, coffee in hand.

“You unfeeling b-” I started after her.

Angelica whipped around, a fierce look twisting her features. “Ace aro does not make me unfeeling. It just means I’m not romantically or sexually attracted to anyone. You  _ wish _ you could say that about James, poor guy.”

“Have you seen-”

“Yup, he went that way.” Angelica walked out the door without pointing out a direction, but I was too proud to give her the satisfaction of chasing her down and asking where. Fuck her.

And now I’d caught sight of Sally’s hair just as she rounded the bend, after passing two obviously gay kids.

This was an effed up world. And I was done playing nice.

“I’m warning you,” I growled, rumbling in the back of my throat a tongue of threats.

“That you’re gay?” Peggy laughed as I threw her a venomous glare. “Oh, don’t worry, we all know.”

That was the last straw. Fist to face before a split second was over and Peggy a was doubled over by another punch in two. “I am not-” I pushed her against the shelf and socked her like a punching bag, “and will never be-” tugged her head up so she looked me in the eye, “a f****t like you.”

Peggy, shaking, glared back but didn’t say a word as I stormed out the shop- clearly Jemmy wasn’t here.

Behind me, I heard the clicking of cases, Peggy scrambling to cover what would soon become bruises before the kids found her.

I passed by a makeup mirror, catching a cruel smile on my face.

 

\---James' POV---

I sent Alex a smile as I ran into him at the coffee shop. “Four o’clock coffee?”

Alex sent me a pained smile back. His face was subtly closed. Hurt.

“What’s up?” I asked cautiously. Maybe it wasn’t my business but he was closing me out so maybe it was my fault…

“Thomas,” Alex muttered. I groaned and waited for the newest bomb to drop. “Beat up Peggy.”

I sucked in my breath. “Can… I see?” I didn’t know if I really wanted to, but I felt obligated to show my concern.

Alex showed me a picture of Peggy- a black eye, busted lip, bruised cheekbones. “He isn’t your responsibility you know.” I pretended not to hear. “He won’t even say you’re together. Until you’re official, nothing he does is your responsibility to atone for.”

I opened and closed my mouth in silent protest, but no witty response met my lips.

“I don’t understand what you see in him,” Alex commented dryly. “You deserve so much better than-”

“Thanks,” I scooped up my coffee. “I’ll see you around.”

I wandered slowly towards the door, thinking. Why did I like Thomas? What drew me to him, when everyone else was so repelled? If you listed the facts about him, he was clearly an asshole. Bu something indescribable, intangible, made him more than what he did and said.

The way he looked at me, when we were along and he thought I couldn’t see. The way he flinched when he caught himself looking at me.

The power he wielded, fists and anger and hatred that was strong and more solid than a brick wall. The same wall I knocked down every night, trying to comprehend the twists that fueled his rage.

The tenderness he kissed me with on moonlit nights, hands cupping my chin, His eyes caressed my features, worship in his eyes. With love, and admiration that I let myself breathe in even as I wondered why he chose me, a shy man with no power, no rage.

The fear, horror, self revulsion that burned in his eyes after he gave into the urge to kiss me. The hate that he sent himself when he looked in the mirror, growling at his reflection when he thought he was alone.

I stepped out the door, taking a breath of crisp air as I blinked into the sun, letting the simplicity of the clear day wash away the dark storm of confusion that surrounded everything Thomas touched. Including me.

Alex watched me as I left, and I heard him sigh quietly, “Can’t say I didn’t try.”

Try. To tell me I was too good for him?? Or that his problems weren’t worth my energy? Maybe it was true. But something in my heart wouldn’t let Thomas go, here where everyone hated him. I kept him afloat.

And maybe that wasn’t fair. But if there was a drowning person,, and you were a lard piece of wood, you could float whether or not the drowning person clung to you. So you might as well save that life.

I rounded the corner, walking towards Thomas’ apartment. Moments later, I was on his couch.

“I heard you beat up Peggy.” It was not a question, but I hoped he would say no. He didn’t. His sullen glare burned into the couch.

I reached for his hand and squeezed it. “Hey. Thomas.”

Something flashed in his eyes and he jerked his hand back, wringing it into a tight fist. “I’m not a f****t.”

I pretended not to be hurt, that he took his hand away for something else, that when he said  _ f****t _ he didn’t mean me.

But I know it was a lie. I tried to keep the pain out of my voice as I continued, “Can you tell me what happened?”

Thomas looked at me straight on, eyes like fire. “I’m not a kid either. No need to treat me like one.”

It was out of my mouth before I could call it back, “Then stop acting like one.”

Thomas’ fist slammed on the table and I visibly flinched. Sometimes he looked ashamed that he scared me, other times proud that he could. Today it was the second one.

“There are so many fucking f****ts around here, everywhere I look. All trying to convert me or some shit, okay, but no! I’m not a dick loving… cock sucking… bitch! Okay? I’m just, I’m not a freak and everyone-  _ fuck.” _ He punched the table again and usually I’d leap forward to stop him but this time I was frozen.

“Why are you so mean and, and violent all the time?” I finally burst out, my hurt clear in my tone. “What- every time you say something or do something you just- you go and you hurt them. What have we ever done to you?” His words had sliced through me and now I was lashing out for the first time in forever.

Maybe it was Alex or maybe it was me. I was sick of this, of all of this.

“Fuck you man! I thought you of all people- fuck you.” Thomas’ growl was close to feral, an underthrum of vulnerability that I caught even when he didn’t.

My heart hitched and my tone lowered. “What did Peggy do to you?”

“Hid Sally. Somehow.” Thomas refused to look at me.

I couldn’t even find the words to express my exasperation. “Do you even realize how ridiculous that is? God- Thomas.”

I could feel his anger radiating off of him, eyes flashing with indignation. “What the hell-”

“Do you mean? Yes, the same question?” I cut him off, the tension that always shook the ground beneath us finally breaking down the middle. “You’re like a fucking broken record, figure it out, okay?” I almost felt bad, as I saw how hard he fought to keep his hurt hidden, but this was really the breaking point for me.

“You always go and you beat someone up because you don’t like them or you don’t agree with them or you don’t like the way they dress or because you’re just having a bad day. Why can’t you leave them the hell alone? Why is it up to you whether how they dress is right? Why is it your business if they are gay or bi or anything but a straight, cisgender guy. You don’t like it, you think they’re freaks-” my voice cracked. I swallowed and took a deep breath. 

Thomas stood still, watching my outburst in shock. “Okay. That’s what you think. But guess what?  _ Nobody fucking asked. _ You know that every time you call someone a f-f- _ that, _ you’re saying it to me, right? And you go around, beating people people up for no reason…” I soaked up my tears with a handkerchief.

“Do you know what Alexander said, when he saw me today? He said, ‘he’s not your responsibility you know.’ I walk around this town hated by half of them because of  _ you _ , kissing up to all the people  _ you  _ hurt, apologising for the things  _ you _ did.”

“I see,” Thomas finally spoke up, flat and emotionless, “this is all about Alex’s wisdom.”

“Alex started me thinking about it,” I conceded, “but I brushed him off. I thought  _ he’s not like that. _ But you are. You clearly are. I just- I can’t do this anymore.

I walked out of his apartment, this time slamming the door behind me, the brass door knocker rattling.

If you were a piece of wood, it would only be right for you to let the drowning person cling to you. You would be able to float and move as long as the person kicked their legs.

But as I thought through all the things I had to do for Thomas, I realized three fundamental truths:

Number one: I wasn’t a piece of wood, I wasn’t an object. I was a person, a living thing. I pictured myself as a bird, Thomas clinging to me to stop from sinking. Then I realized-

Number two: He wasn’t using me to  _ help him float. _ He was using me to  _ float upon _ . And I was holding him too, to help him stay up. Without  _ me _ holding  _ him _ back, he would lose his grip.

Number three: When someone weighs you down that much, letting them go is the only way to be free to fly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually a little bit proud of this chapter... Not bad right? Maybe?


	28. What's Going On?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life continues to follow our main two... summaries aren't my thing...

\---John’s POV---

I took a deep breath in the mirror. Night time. I had kept my makeup on all day, but I wasn’t about to got to bed with it. Leaving Alex to his computer, I wandered to the bathroom reluctantly to wash my face.

Streams of water cascaded down my face, cool and clean, slowly exposing the bruises beneath the makeup. When I finished, I stared at my dripping face in the mirror as I took in my reflection. My face was a mess. Makeup gone, it looked like I’d lost a boxing match with no gloves.

For the last week, I’d been free of these daily beatings, punch after punch hitting home, but now I’d gone and gotten myself hurt again.

As I showered and put on my pajamas- you are never to old for pajamas- I thought about that. My whole life I’d known that getting beaten wasn’t right. That the purple and blue that bloomed on Mother’s sides wasn’t right. But I always thought about it as something set in stone, something that couldn’t be changed, like the curl of my hair or the green of my eyes _. _

Now it finally occurred to me that it wasn’t  _ not right _ . It was  _ wrong. _ It wasn’t ok that Michael was being beat every day because he was gay, or that he wasn’t only because he was pretending not to be.

That we were getting hurt was not a sad, unchanging truth. I wondered what I could do. I felt helpless. Mother, Michael and I were powerless.  _ We _ were powerless.

Someone, somewhere, I knew there was someone who wasn’t. Or something I could do to become more powerful.

Somehow, what was wrong would be fixed.

“John?” Alex’s voice called to me, sounding muffled through the wood of the bathroom door.

I stepped out, my curls still hanging around my head, loose and wet. “Yeah?” This time, I was wearing long sleeves despite the hot night, except rolled up on my cast arm. 

So was Alex.

“We have a problem,” he told me. I raised my eyebrows. “You said I have to sleep…” he gestured to the couch, piled high with textbooks and papers. Binders and books from end to end, folders resting against the precarious stacks.

Oh. Right. We had one bed. Umm….

Alex cleared his throat. “Do you want to maybe… I mean…” he trailed off, bright red, and my color rose to the same shade.

_ Sleep together. Share the bed. _

Actually I would have loved to. I just didn’t really want to admit that.

“Yeah, uh, sure.” I agreed uncertainly. 

“O-ok.”

Slipping between the sheets, I turned towards the wall and tried not to hyperventilate. 11:17. Alex was back my 11:32, only 15 minutes, but for me it felt like forever.

“I- uh…. Goodnight.” Alex finally managed.

My face burning, I didn’t even turn towards him, though I felt his body warm beside mine. “‘Night.”

 

\---Alex’s POV---

I woke up early as the streams of sunlight broke through the cracks between the curtains.  _ Life in the mornings _ , I thought  _ waking up without an alarm _ : Sunlight actually reached the window.

I yawned and stretched, wondering why I was squished up near the edge of the bed. I was a lie-on-your-back kind of sleeper, except when I was super tired, in which case I flopped on my stomach. Why was I curled on my side?

Then I recalled the events of last night, from the bed that we both squished into. I felt his legs entangled in mine, blushing furiously. I looked over at the couch. I’d strategically studied so that my stuff gradually moved onto the couch, rendering it useless to sleep upon.

It worked all too well and my courage deserted me when it came time to propose we co-occupy the bed.

Disentangling myself reluctantly from John’s  _ gorgeous _ and warm sleeping body, I got myself ready for the day quickly, trying to put him out of my mind. His bruises hadn’t faded a bit- they must’ve been hard impacts.

_ Brush, brush. _ I ran the brush through my straight brown/black hair- black because it was wet right now- and thought about John’s rich, bouncing curls.  _ Arg. _ Stop.

Out on the sidewalk, striding briskly towards the coffee shop, I let the crisp morning air cool my face, hopefully bringing it down to a normal color.

“Hey,” Eliza called through the door to me, holding it open, “how’s your boyfriend?”

I flushed again. “Shut up. He’s sleeping.” I peeked around her to Maria, who stood at the register, drinking her own cup of morning coffee. “Would you be kind enough to apply his makeup again today?”

Maria grinned. “No prob.” Sliding me my usual, she asked warily, “Why… do you know what they’re from?”

I shook me head, replying firmly, “I intend to find out.”

I worried about the confrontation the whole way back. I didn’t want to push or come off as someone who just won’t hop off your ass, but when your best friend/crush got beaten up after going home and you already were harbouring a suspicion that he was abused, you wouldn’t just stand by.

John almost crashed into me as he rounded the corner to the hallway that led to our dorm. “Up?” I asked rhetorically, handing him the coffee I’d gotten for him, “Class isn’t on until an hour.”

John shrugged. “Gotta fix my face,” he answered matter-of-factly.

I nodded like this was normal and smiled. “When you’re done I’ll be at the picnic tables.” He liked hanging out with me enough to pop over. Right? Then I’d get the truth out of him.

John turned a shade paler. It took me less than a split second to comprehend his apprehension: that was where he had received The Text. Capitals.

“Nevermind,” I corrected hastily, “we’ll do the play yard.”

Relief flooded his features and John waved a goodbye before heading off, leaving me to wander musingly down the stairs, out the door, and to the benches.

Maria was fast. John wouldn’t take too long.

 

\---John’s POV---

“Aaand, done.” Maria stepped back, handed me a mirror, and watched my reaction expectantly.

“Flawless,” I replied honestly. She’s even filled the covered spaces with perfectly spaced freckles. I thanked her again and again as I left, giving her no room to ask where my bruises were from. I could see from the look in her eyes that she was trying to figure it out.

Minutes later, I sat down lightly beside Alex. “Sorry,” I excused my lateness, “I couldn’t run. Breaking a sweat might mess up my makeup.”

Alex laughed, and I smiled, relaxed, finally out from under the scrutinizing gaze of the Eliza- Maria conspiracy couple.

“How’s it going?” I asked mildly, watching fluffy clouds float past a bright sun.

“I’m fine,” Alex responded, eyeing me with raised eyebrows. “You? What with all your bruises, my expectation would be-”

“I’m fine too,” I interrupted shortly, annoyed. Why did everyone have to act like it was such a big deal? I just wanted the whole thing to blow over. This was normal. Actually, this was good. I hadn’t been punched once in… 31 hours?

Back at home all my private tutors were paid extra to not breathe a word, even to me, about the art piece of blues, purples, blacks, and peach with brown spots that was my body.

And paid off was enough to keep their traps shut- they were private tutors! If they gave a damn about the students, they wouldn’t charge so much for a single child.

Here everybody knew the first to last thing about everyone else. It was too much.

I noticed Alex watching me quietly, and them he spoke softly, saying, “John, you left to go home in a  _ panic _ because of an evidently vague text message and came back with a number of bruises and a broken arm. You can’t expect us to just, you know, pretend it didn’t happen or that it’s normal or, or not care.” He looked at me hopefully.

Nope. No sir. Count me out. I wasn’t about to spill that Father abused me, had been abusing me for years just because they knew I got bruised. I was better at cover stories than that.

“Dude, how many times do I have to say I fell from a tree? I hit a bunch of branches on the way, and it hurt like hell, and I fell on my arm.”

Alex looked taken aback by my sudden attitude, and responded with less tact, “You actually only said that once, the other instances consisted of me telling others and you elaborating with the same details each time. You’re like a fucking broken record about that, but I’m starting to wonder if it’s even true.”

Quick, solid response. I replied with the only thing I could think to shoot back. “Are you accusing me of lying to you?” Which, of course, was exactly what I was doing.

“I’m implying that, yes,” Alex responded immediately, looking regretful. “I’m not calling you a liar; there’s a difference. I’m just assuming that this singular statement is not the full truth because of the way you present it and the implausibility of the narrative itself.”

I spluttered. “Stop with the big words, ok?” I was backed into a corner, and the only thing you can do when you’re cornered is lash out or surrender. And I was not about to wave a white handkerchief. “‘Singular statement,’ ‘implausibility,’” I repeated, not quite mocking, but threateningly close. “Talk like a normal person for once, will you?”

Alex looked stung, but stood his ground firmly. “Just tell us what happened. We want to know, I just want to help you.”

“Ok.” I shot back.

Surprised, Alex backtracked. “Really?”

I nodded. “Here’s how you can help: be my witness.” I help up my hand, the other laid hard against my heart. I heart hurt. Probably just the cast digging into my chest. “I promise to never  _ ever _ climb a tree, ever again.” I looked at Alex. “You got that?”

Alex looked pissed.

The bell rang.

Alex looked more pissed.

“I’m getting to the bottom of this,” he promised. He turned and left, leaving my stunned at my own words.

Shit. It was clear he didn’t like me so much anymore.

Well. Time to call in for a new bed.

\---Alex’s POV---

A part of me knew what it was like to feel attacked by someone who was only trying to help, but  _ I was only trying to help! _ Jeez! Was I wrong to be mad?

I couldn’t help feeling hurt at how snappish John had become. Snapping turtle. I swear, it was so frustrating.

As I huffed, entering the classroom with an expression sour as a  lemon, I hopped straight into the lesson, teaching so passive aggressively that the kids were deathly silent the entirety of the class.

Maybe I should teach more classes like that… 

The kids, I learned, had given John several presents, little gimmicks and such that was a financed mini shopping spree. The kids loved him, I loved him… 

Why wouldn’t he let us in? Something was clearly wrong. I recalled how tense he’d been at so many little things. When approached with a suggestion, when having to change clothes, when people mentioned his home, his family, or his past, when we talked about cooking, singing, and even food. Then he came home with bruises and a broken arm and expected us to pretend everything was perfect…

Why didn’t he even realize how much he meant to us, brushed us off like our concern was a flea? It warmed my heart when anyone showed they cared about me!

I understood everyone came from different backgrounds. Maybe I was more sensitive to people who cared because I had no one during my teen years, and maybe he was used to being fussed over- his family seemed rich- but still. It didn’t excuse his dismissive manner and quite frankly, I was offended.

I was hurt.

Soon I was surprised by a flood kids that informed me that class was over… oops.

“Yo all are excused, class is dismissed.” I called out to the faces already passing my by.

Jared peeked his head around the doorway, he’d already left.  “It sure had, man, the bell already rang.” He looked at me condescendingly. “Probably too busy thinking about guy-with-the-cast, am I right?”

He slipped out the door before I had the chance to reprimand him and Evan sent me a shy, apologetic look on Jared’s behalf.

Awww. He was so pure. Normally he wouldn’t dare look anyone in the eye, even for Jared’s excuse. Jared made those comments so commonly, Evan’s head would always be up.

I guess he was feeling brave. I smiled back and he ducked his head and hurried out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really appreciate everyone who's still reading. I am definitely less stressed with less publishing. One man's loss is another man's gain, as they say.


	29. Your Fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, this is Evan and Connor's POVs in this chapter- they're in art and people get triggered. Yay.

\---Evan’s POV---

“You’re gonna make it obvious,” Jared accused me playfully, dropping an arm over my shoulders. “When was the last time you looked a teacher in the eye, huh?” He took back his arm to give me a playful punch.

Which was disappointing, well, it was sad, I guess, because then I didn’t get his warmth. He gave me a soft nudge.

“S-sorry,” I replied, playing nervously with the hem of my favorite blue polo shirt, “I just felt, well, I feel like maybe, you know, maybe we should feel, I mean, shouldn’t we feel bad about this?”

Most people would be confused by my scattered way of expressing my scattered thoughts. Well, not Jared. He understood me just fine. I hoped.

“Nah,” he flashed a grin, “ _ you  _ shouldn’t. I’m the only one doing this. I’m starting to regret telling you. It’s giving you anxiety.”

I shook my head with a tiny smile. “I already, I have anxiety.”

Jared laughed and I ducked my head. “Well, yeah, duh.” he replied bluntly. “That’s common knowledge.”

With no response to this, I resumed our paused conversation, “Don’t you feel guilty? Like, you should, or do you feel, uh, well, bad about this?”

Jared’s carefree swagger matched his face. “Uh, no dud, it’s their fault anyways. Bathbomb deprivation is a serious offense. I’m taking what’s mine and saving them the guilt of my death on their hands.”

“You won’t- You wouldn’t-  _ Jared. _ ” I wrung my hands and my breath sped up.  _ How could he joke about that? How could I live without him? How could he leave? My life would go dark without his light, my light. His light was my light. We all know  _ my _ sun didn’t rise. _

“ _ Evan.” _ He responded. I blushed when he said my name and tugged the hem of my shirt again.

As if sensing my discomfort, Jared grinned at me. “Hey,” he said, and I looked up. Through his glasses I could see his amazingly beautiful eyes, brown with the spot of green in on eye. Oh. Oh dear. I was thinking liking-Jared-thoughts again. I quickly looked away.

Jared squeezed my shoulder. “We’ll be fine.” He spread his hands, but I missed his hand on my shoulder. “Plus, you won’t be involved so  _ you _ have nothing to worry about.” He gestured to the bathroom. “See ya in a minute.”

I was too shy, of course, to say it to him, but once he left, I told the air, “But I’m worried, worried about  _ you. _ ”

I, of course, would never tattle on Jared. But if I didn’t would it be my fault?

 

\---Connor’s POV---

Wow, the teacher looked  _ pissed. _ I knew it wasn’t our class. I was him talking to Mr. Hamilton, maybe that was it. Or… yeah, that was it. All I’d done in class was sketch some accurate weed leaves on my worksheet and called it a day, but-

Mr. Curly Hair-  _ Damn, stop it, you sound like Jared. _ Mr. Laur… something was too occupied by our class idiot to care.

_ Jared this, Jared that…  _ uhg. And our perfect innocent kid, who was also- well, he was okay, he wasn’t bad. But by association with Jared, he fell pretty low. 

And all that blue hurt my eyes.

And how do you understand that scrambled language?

Jared was worse, though. Swaggering around like he owned the place and using memes in everything and even though we both exasperated the teachers, he somehow charmed them or some shit so they still liked him.

Dear god, why was this monstrosity created?

Actually, that question was more applicable to our president, but…

Jared was a close second.

“Hey.” Mr. Laur-something tapped my desk, which I’d chosen specifically so it would be unreachable because it was at the back of the room. “The worksheet is for art, but not just for doodles. I love the style, but I would prefer if you also completed the work and chose a more appropriate subject.”

He was trying to be nice, I could tell. It wasn’t hard to see past that cover, though. He’d had a shitty day or something, that was clear.

Well.

I didn’t want to make him mad. But. It would be pretty entertaining.

Eh. “I don’t work to your preference.  _ I _ prefer to draw weed.” I shrugged and started another leaf.

“Look.” I heard a current of anger. “Fill out the worksheet and you can draw afterward, okay? You’re a good artist.”

I snorted. “I’m not that gullible. I’m not doing the worksheet just ‘cuz you fed me some bullshit compliment. They look like shit.”

Actually they didn’t. But he was almost over the edge.

“Yo, man, just do your work. Quit messing with Mr. Laurens.” Jared fucking Kleinman.

I shot him a glare. “Did someone give you a crown or something? Or do you just assume you’re so good you can tell me what to do-”

“I do think I’m so good. Because all  _ I _ need to be is better than  _ you. _ I got that in the bag.”

Mr. Laurens- I guess that had to be his name- was flushing with anger at this point. “Boys! Jared, you’re not helping.”

“No,” I sneered, “You’re not.”

Mr. Laurens let out a growl he probably thought only he could hear. “Neither are you.” he added, whipping around to glare at me.

“Well, no I’m not,” I replied smoothly, “I’m not a helper. I’m the problem, right?” As I said it, it stung me.  _ Connor Murphy, nothing but a problem. _ Was that how everyone saw me?

_ Wait no, _ I thought quickly,  _ that’s what I decide to be. _ I was trying to be a problem. And I was killing it.

Mr. Laurens let out another soft growl to himself.

“Watch out,” I commented lazily, “our teacher’s gone savage.”

He took a deep breath and told me, “I’ll give you 10 seconds to sit down, be quiet, and do your work. I’m trying to find a compromise here.”

“One, two, three, four, five,” he counted, watching with frustration as I didn’t even blink, “six, seven, eight, nine-”

“Number ten, now what?” I cut him off impatiently.

Mr. Laurens looked ready to explode. Ooops. Maybe too far.

Oh well. This guy didn’t have the guts to dole out a real punish-

“A week in detention, both lunch and recess and after school,” Mr. Laurens burst out, “and a student-teacher-principal conference if I can get one.”

“ _ Holy- what the fuck? I barely did shit!”  _ I exploded, storming up to him.

Jared snickered in the background.  _ Grrr. _

“Language!” Mr. Laurens barked, “or it’ll be more!”

I stomped right up to him and saw something in his expression flicker as he watched me- fear? Interesting.

“You scared?” I asked bluntly.

Jared slapped his desk. “Bro,  _ let him be. _ ”

Mr. Laurens fixed his expression and told me firmly, “Go back to your seat.”

“Nah, I already got so much detention, what else you got, huh?” I stepped closer and his fearful look returned.

“Con-connor, leave him alone,” Evan’s squeaky voice piped up.

I whipped around and stomped closer to Evan, who cowered under my stare.

“Hey, don’t you look at Evan like that,” Jared growled, dispelling my feeling of power.

“It’s always me!” I yelled, “I’m always the bad guy, right? It’s not Evan’s fault because he’s telling me what the fuck I’m supposed to do, it’s mine, because I’m mad at him for that, and the damn teacher keeps fucking with me but it’s still  _ my  _ fault- fuck all of you!”

“Lang-” yeah, he was definitely afraid. I didn’t care. I was pissed.

Something tugged in my consciousness, telling me I had no right to be mad at a teacher in this situation, but that shit was easy to ignore.

I reached for the closest solid object- a shining color printer. It looked like it was a hefty weight and inside I was boiling for something to unleash my inner monster.  _ Be the problem _ my mind cheered as I picked it up.

_ Fuck. _ It was heavy. Probably filled with paper and a bunch of other stuff for printing colors and shit. Mr. Laurens fell silent and I loved the feeling of utter control as the world froze, watching me.

“Freak.” The moment was broken by Jared’s weak snarl.

I growled back, “Well fuck you too!” and tried to throw the printer at him.

But as I threw it, Mr. Laurens yelled, “No!” probably to divert my attention or mess me up.

It worked. Time slowed again, the whole class watching as the printer left my hands, my anger powering the throw.

Straight at Laurens.

Some insanely well honed reflexes-  _ where’d he learn that? _ \- made the printer barely catch the curls in his ponytail, but I was too shocked at the whole situation to be relieved.

_ I want reflexes like Mr. Laurens. _

_ I’m fucking screwed. _

_ I need to get the fuck out. _

Without a glance back, I did just that.

As I ran back to the orphanage dorms, I wondered to myself. Was I really a problem in their eyes? Was that what they saw? I wondered why the teacher looked so terrified. I wondered why the class fell silent. I wondered why Jared hated me so much.

I wondered how many people in that room were hurt or scared.

And I wondered how much of it was my fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you all so much for reading! Constructive criticism will make my day so...


	30. Let it Be?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They get a little tense with each other, or at least I hope that's how it comes off. Mr. Heere plays the role of wise-old-advice-guy. So, enjoy!

\---Alex’s POV---

I paced as I spoke, gesturing unconsciously as I taught the class about the American Revolution. A few nerds giggled or squeakdd each time I mentioned someone in Miranda, which evoked contradiction emotions within me- on one hand, they were Miranda nerds (yay), on the other, it was starting to irritate me.

I was already significantly upset after trying to talk to Laurens… Okay, maybe not offended enough to justify acknowledging him by last name. However, my mind slipped to that conversation… often.

As I taught, I heard a huge crash from next door, and running footsteps. The pattering of footsteps, loud and fading out, informed me that whoever it was must have been running away.  _ Irrelevant _ , I reprimanded myself,  _ his problem, not mine. _ I hesitated a moment more. “Give me a minute,” I excused myself to the class, which began chittering quietly among themselves.

I peeked around the door in time to see Connor Murphy dashing out the door at the end of the hallway.  _ What was it this time? Did he make the big crash? _

Seeing as these questions took me nowhere, I turned back to the class- only to hear something else.

Fast, hyperventilation breaths. I recognized them only partially.  _ Evan _ , I concluded … _ No, wait. _ These were louder, larger scale breaths, they same type, but… an adult?

“Give me a few more minutes.”

I strode out of the room to spot-

John?!

My fellow teacher was pressed against the brightly papered wall, green eyes squeezed tightly shut. He was the source of the noise, I could recognize that instantly.

John almost seemed to cower against the covered bulletin, away from something- or someone. Poor guy.

Why had I been so mad at him moments ago? He was only being cautious.The scene I saw before me said it wall.

I stepped forward in the softest, gentlest manner I could, insuring I didn’t stomp or create any reason for fear. When I was close enough, I whispered, “John?”

His eyes were still tightly shut, and he didn’t utter a word. However, his breathing slowed in the slightest.

“John,” I repeated, “It’s me. Alex. You’ll be okay, alright? You’re okay. It’s okay.” I repeated this like a mantra, over and over, observing John’s breath progress from speeding, gasping breaths to shaking, short breaths, and finally to a normal inhale and exhale.

When he was ready, he began deeper breaths. “Thanks,” he exhaled almost inaudibly. 

“Of course,” I responded quickly. Slowly, John opened his eyes, revealing those beautiful, forest green orbs. “Are you okay?”

John’s eyes snapped up to my face and he edged away from me, already pressed against the wall and thus incapable of stepping back. I dropped my eyes so he wouldn’t see the hurt that shot through my heart. I stepped back too.

He was already struggling to stand up. “I’m fine.” he replied shortly as I reached to offer a hand. He moved towards the classroom.

I tried not to look taken aback, though I was.  _ Did I say something wrong? _ “I-I don’t think you are…” I faltered. I wasn’t attempting to inform him of his own emotions, but… he didn’t seem okay.

He shook his head, mesmerizing me with the bounce of his curls. John jerked his body away from my outstretched hand. “Then why did you ask?” he challenged.

I pulled my hand back, watching John’s panicked look morph into one of guardedness as I despairingly took one more attempt. “I’m just trying-”

“To  help.” Hard, clipped words. “Are you even capable of saying anything else?” John almost appeared shocked by his own aggression. Or maybe that was just what I wanted to see. I supposed I hasn’t disguised my hurt as well as I hoped, because he softened his tone, “Look, can you just let it be?”

_ Was I being too pushy? _ “John, if I went home and when I came back it appeared that I was being abused, would you just let it be?”

_ Maybe he would,  _ I thought suddenly.  _ Does he even care about me enough to be concerned? _

However, John gazed back at me blankly for a few seconds, and then answered, “This isn’t about you, this is about me.”

“John, I’m not trying to be nosy-” I began beseechingly as John closed his eyes as though closing me out.

“Well you are.” he interjected harshly, stepping into his classroom’s yellow doorway. “Leave me alone.”

The sunlight from the windows in his classroom caught his eyes and made them sparkle as he shut the door in my face.

This time they weren’t sparking with humor or joy. I could tell they sparkled with tears.

 

\---John’s POV---

I wandered around camps, wondering where I should go to be alone. Staff room? No. Picnic tables? No… Orchard? No!  _ Remember A la Mode? _ Stop.

Arg. Clenching my fists, I glared at a tree, then recalled Alex pointing Evan and Jared out on my first day, climbing that tree. Why was everything connected to him? At least school was officially over, so he wouldn’t be, like, next door.

Good. I didn’t want to be around him. At all.

I watched the kids playing in the grassy field and remembered being that little, not knowing I was gay, or what a monster Father was. Life was easier then.

Seriously though, where was Alex? It was after school, but maybe he was still in his classroom. Not that it mattered.

So many negative thoughts. I needed some pure… Something. I guess I was already in pure air. Company. I needed pure company.

Before I could stop it, Alex’s voice rang in my head, clear and with the tiniest rift of grating raspiness that was so warm and friendly. _ If you ever need a pick-me-up… _

 

“John!”

“Hey Mr. Heere, still no pants?”

**~~~**

Mr. Heere sat across from me on a 3 legged stool, looking thoughtful. I didn’t know he could look thoughtful.

“You’re pushing him  _ away _ because you don’t want him to come in. You don’t want to  _ let him in _ .” he told me. It wasn’t a question. It was a summary.

I wasn’t even sure how we got here, I just felt so bad about, well, everything to do with Alex, really, that I just started talking. Mr. Heere’s frank, honest air would do that to people.

Of course, I didn’t tell him about my home situation.

“Let’s put it this way. Your heart is a house. Alex is knocking. You’re pushing him away because you don’t want to let him in.” He shrugged and started chopping again, speaking over his shoulder. “Maybe his isn’t tapping on the door. Maybe he doesn’t want to barge his way in. He wants to  _ see. _ To find out if he can do anything about the damage he finds.

“Maybe he can tell something’s hurting you, and he wants to see the bruises in your home so he can stop the aggressor.” Mr. Heere dumped the chopped veggies into the boiling soup pot, oblivious to my racing heart. He had no clue how close his metaphor came to the truth.

“If I know Alex, he’ll go to scheming lengths to do what he wants, but he never wants to hurt someone. I don’t think he’s trying to break in at all, he just wants to see in. Tapping on the glass. Waving through a window.” I was already backing towards the door. He was uncanny and the steam from the boiling soup made ne feel sticky and suffocated. “It’s your choice whether you decide to wave back.”

“Ok, I would be going. Thanks Mr. Heere.” I called, my breath making the steam swirl.

Mr. Heere turned around to show me out, but before I could leave, he looked me in the eyes. “John, remember: Alex isn’t trying to break into your heart and take and share around what isn’t his. He’s trying to see into your heart to take away the pain that wasn’t meant to be yours.”

I nodded quickly. “That’s great, Mr. Heere!” I told him, and stumbled out the door, expecting to blink in bright sunlight.

Instead, I was met with cool, evening air and a setting sun. I smiled, letting the cool air remove the heat and water from the steaming room from my skin.

I walked back, watching windows swing open to let in the cool night air.

I tried to still my thoughts but they returned again and again to my conversation with Mr. Heere.

_ Should I swing open my windows too? Or should I draw the curtains? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU for reading so much! Break is wonderful, Oakland cancelled school because the smoke is thicker than San Fran fog and it was the equivelent of 9 cigarettes a day so our teachers couldn't give us the break homework!!!


	31. The Theft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared sneaks into Lams' dorm to procure bathbombs and John mistakes it for his father. Freak outs ensue.

\---Jared’s POV---

  1. _1776_. I chuckled quietly. _1776_.



I’d found out that that was Mr. Lauren’s room, by hacking into the system… one catch. It was Alex’s room too… and they were so obviously in love…

Meh. They wouldn’t go that far this early. Plus Laurens had a broken arm. That would make positioning and such awkward, to say the least.

Ans right now it was 1:00 in the morning, so even if they did do the dirty they’d both be asleep by now. But they wouldn’t anyway, so I didn’t know why I was still worried.

God, I sounded like Evan.

Click-click. Click, click, click, click. Click. Click. Within minutes, I’d entered their dorm. I crept forward, a small reading light in my hand.

“Ow!” I stumbled over a textbook- Alex goddammit- and stubbed my toe, lost my balance, and slapped a wooden dresser loudly before falling with a dull  _ thump _ on the carpet floor.

I heard a sharp breath from the direction of the beds.  _ Shit _ .

My first thought was that it wasn’t fair the chaperones got carpet and we didn’t.

My second thought was that my flashlight had ended up 10 feet away, shining a light onto the face of a woman that must’ve been Lauren’s mother because they eyes and hair were the same color, and the distinctive curls made it even more obvious.

My final thought was that in the dark, my hand had landed on plastic packaging.

Less than a minute after my fall, I was dashing down the chaperone dormitory stairs, clutching my treasure.

And the light. As they say when you go to nature parks or whatever- Evan would kill me for not caring-  _ leave no trace _ .

 

\---John’s POV---

Click-click. Click, click, click, click. Click. Click… My body froze, my eyes still squeezed shut. My mind teetered between the presence of awakening and the sickening abyss of asleep.

_ Click _ \- It was Father. Staggering home at midnight, too angry to let me sleep peacefully, to drunk to get the key in the key hole.

I heard a stomp, a slap, and then a thump.

_ Stomps into the room. Slaps Mother. Thumps up the stairs. _ I knew what came next- he would yank me out of bed by my hair, beat me up, roaring drunkenly, and slump to sleep on a nearby couch.

Terrified to wake him, I wouldn’t move an inch until the morning light. I sucked in my breath in anticipation and braced myself, trembling violently, a single bright light flashing once through the room.

Father would switch on the lights. Why wasn’t he switching on the light? I heard the door close, then footsteps and my brain scrolled quickly through a never ending list at a sickening speed.

What is he as going after Michael? What if he decided Mother was a better target-

Without knowing what I was doing, I jumped up, panicky, and stumbled to the door before my body could even adjust to being awake again.

“No-!” I cried out, “Don’t- please- me! Beat me!”

Blankets shifted behind me on a different bed and I whipped around, what it  _ that _ was him- or he hid there instead to beat me, surprise me-

Oh no. Did I wake him up? Oh no, oh no, no, no, no no no nonononono… “I’m sorry,” I choked, tasking the salt of my own tears. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up, p-please go back to sleep, please, I’ll be quiet, I will!” The figure moved towards me, up from the bed and I pressed myself against the door.

I knew the salt I tasted would soon be blood- but Father would  _ not  _ go through this door. He would stay in  _ this _ room, he would beat  _ me _ up, he would not lay a  _ finger _ on Mother or Michael.

“No.” i told him firmly, pretending I was in a position to bargain, “You can’t get to them. If you’re going to hurt someone, hurt me. It’s my fault Michael’s gay, you said it yourself.”

He was saying something, not in the brutish growl I heard every day, not even in an angry tone. Maybe he was trying to coax me away form the door.

_ Never. _ “It’s not Mother’s fault either,” I desperately added, “It’s mine, not hers.”

He was close enough to hit me now, and flicked on the lights. Lights meat that he was about to beat my ass. Without waiting for my eyes to adjust, I curled up, protecting my neck and face, mostly leaving my legs and arms exposed, in front of the door like a doorstop.

My breath stopped as I waited for the first blows to fall… but they didn’t.

Instead, I felt a small, gentle hand land softly on my shoulder.

“ _ Shhhhh. _ ” A voice whispered.  I knew that voice… “ _ Shhhh. Don’t cry, don’t cry. _ ” I noticed my knees were soaking and I was sobbing in huge, heaving gasps.

I tried to slow my breathing, but it didn’t work because then I needed more air and I had to take huge gulps of air again. I sniffed.

“Hey,” the friendly voice continued carefully, “May I hug you?”

My neck felt like an unoiled joint as I jerked it in what I hoped was a shaky nod. Soon, thin arms wrapped around me, warm and solid. Maybe he felt my breathing, because he began to count softly, “In, two, three, four, out, two, three, four…”

Slowly, gradually, I was able to let out a heaving sigh, and croak out the only word I was ready to say.

“ _ Alex _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEHEHEeeee NOT good at making people freak out. Freaking terrible. Hopefully the general point was conveyed. LOVE ALL YOU READERS!!


	32. John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex comforts John (again, I'm not good a this, so oops, sorry in advance).

\---Alex’s POV---

“I’m right here.”

John opened his eyes, wiping them clumsily with his shirt, and I caught sight of several nasty bruises on his torso. After what I just heard, I wasn’t in the least bit surprised.

“Thank you.” he gasped breathlessly, staring into space.

I squeezed his shoulder and took his hand. “Of course. Are you okay?”  _ I’m fine, _ I figured he would say, as always. Brush off, act indifferent.

But he dropped his eyes to the soft carpet and then to his hands that had tightly clasped on my own as though letting go would kill him.

“No.” he answered finally in a watery, broken voice.

I nodded, not gazing at anything, really, and responded with a soft half smile. “I didn’t think so.” John puffed out a breath that I perceived to be a small laugh. “You just squeeze my hand when you want to get up, okay?” A singular nod. “You want to sit on the couch?” Another. “Alright. Your call.”

John sniffed, his eyelashes wet with tears, and after a few moments he squeezed my hand. Wordlessly, I helped him up and we sat on the soft cushions of the sofa.

“You probably want to know where that came from,” John croaked finally, his voice raspy from crying and yelling.

From the scene I had just witnessed, I realized this was a significantly new, fresh, or reopened wound. Much more vulnerable and stinging than I’d originally perceived. “Only if you’re alright telling me,” I decided.

John stared at the glassy TV screen as I waited, his sniffles punctuating the silence. Slowly, he shook his head. “You should know.” he declared, as if trying to persuade himself more than me. I squeezed his hand- I hadn’t let it go- and waited patiently until he was ready to tell me.

He took a deep breath and began. “So I have a really conservative father- hates anybody liberal. Racist. Doesn’t believe in environmental justice.” I nodded. That must’ve been why they could afford so many cars and still hadn’t gotten an electric one.

“Believes in the normal gender roles: women cook and clean, men are strong and order them around. That’s pretty much how our family works.” Yikes. Sure, I’d heard of people like that, but back on the island-

_ Shit, _ I’d been so good at staying away from  _ my _ past. When I was a child it was every person for themselves, genders aside. Women who only cooked or cleaned were left in the dust, as were men who only ordered the women around.

My mother, for one-

“And?” I inquired hastily, hoping to get my mind away from the topic.

John took another shaky breath. “And… and homophobic.” My heart rate increased dramatically. His tone signified a more important connection to the word… could it be…?

“Are… pardon me for asking if I happen upon forbidden ground, but-”

“I’m gay.”

It was as though John had picked up a ball and dropped it casually, watched as it blew up the room because it was actually a bomb, and popped my heart.

My mind was reeling, my heart in shock. I was positive my eyes were on the verge of popping out of my head- then I noticed: no, not casually, because he was beginning to slowly curl his knees up into a ball like he had when he presumably assumed I was his father.

He was afraid of  _ my _ reaction? I was still speechless in overwhelming-  _ everything- _ feelings, thoughts- it was just so much.

For once, words failed me.

So I didn’t speak, instead, I hugged him tight, my arms around his shoulders where I was considerably positive there would be the least number of bruises. I rested my chin on his shoulder and hoped he wouldn’t feel my heart racing through my shirt as he lay his forehead gratefully on my shoulder.

I mean, he most likely felt it, though, because I swear we were pressed chest to chest.

He was an ocean, I was a marine biologist. He’s just gifted me with the invention of the submarine. As I listened, he showed me the wonders and dangers beneath the rippling surface.

He told me how he knew, he told me the story of how he came out. That was when the beating started. When the pride dried up like a river that fed into his ocean and his gayness came down like a dam.

His eyes went to the framed picture as he told me about how hard his mother fought to protect him. “Hufflepuff,” he told me with a proud smile.

I didn’t have the heart to remind him that Slytherin was better. “She sounds strong,” I told him instead, “Like mine.”

John’s eyes went to my face and I pulled in my legs. “Your mother?”

_ No. No, thanks. _ “Nevermind,” I dismissed him, “continue?” 

Though skeptical, John did. He got this job to run away from him home life. Somehow his mother had a connection to the orphanage. John didn’t know why. He was able to come, though, and way called back because of his brother. Also gay. Also beaten.

My blood was boiling, but the surface didn’t show the bubbles. This was John’s moment, not mine to ruin with indignation. When he finished, we hugged each other for a long time. Finally John murmured, “Your mother?”

That broke the spell. Gently, I unwrapped my arms from him and gave him a melted smile. “It’s late.” I replied simply. “We should sleep.”

His beautiful green eyes were a forest of green, I could see a crow in it’s midst, calling a warning.  _ Something’s wrong! _ It told the forest. The rest of the forest didn’t know what was wrong, though, only something was.

I had no intention on enlightening them. Wordlessly, I turned and preset my alarm before going back into the safety of my sheets.

It was as though the last week had been the eye of the hurricane, the quiet. _ Or, no, not- _ I searched frantically for another metaphor. Now I was no longer in the center.

And for the first time since John came disspell them, the nightmares were back.

My mother’s eyes flashed with pan and my stomach felt as if I’d been thrown off a cliff and was now suspended in the air.

Th en my heart became heavy enough to drag me down, deep into  the depths of the frothing, angr y green.

My mother was sick.

Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Painful as it may have been to read such a badly written hurt-comfort scene, you survived. I congratulate you.


	33. Un, deux, trois...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex wakes up from a nightmare to the news that there was a storm and yup.

\---Alex’s POV---

_ My mother, in bed, sick as hell, the stench of the sickness pervading in the air thick and stifling. Her shaking arms around me as I cough, telling me _ I love you Alexander, I love you, I love you.

_ I shush her.  _ I know, save your strength and stay alive…

We’ll be okay, _ whispers to me _ , We will, I promise. _ She’s getting weaker. My panic rises within me as her voice grows shallow.  _ Hey _ , she breaths. _ Calm down. Shhh…  _ I feel her heartbeat against my back. _

_ I want her to shut up. I want her to save her breath so she can stay strong. I’ll do whatever it takes to make her happy so she can stop telling me what to do. So she’ll go back to breathing for herself. So when she tells me to count in French, to calm me down, I do. _

Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf  _ she repeats a beat behind me.  _

_ Her breath is catching. Deep down I know she’ll never make it.  _ Mom, I’m so sorry for forgetting what you taught me.

_ She smiles wanely back. _ My son. _ She moves her pale hand. She wants me to go again. _

_ Reluctantly, I do. I watch her face. I listen as she counts with me, a beat after me, until-  _ Un deux, trois…

_ Her breath fades. She’s holding me close, but I no longer feel the heartbeat against my back. And then her arms are slipping. _

_ She’s gone. _

Shaken and heartbroken, my eyes popped open. Rather than quick breathing, I realized I was lying in a tight curl even though I was a lie-on-your-back sleeper, and tears were leaking out of my eyes. Turning off the alarm- it was 4:30 and I wasn’t going back to sleep- I slipped into the bathroom to wash my face. 

Soon, I was sitting at my computer, typing furiously. I was clearly too occupied with my extensive paper to think about my mother, or anything in my past. I knew from experience that overworking was a wonderful way to make sure I kept my mind in the present.

I hadn’t been working much lately, so I had a considerably large amount to catch up on. And yet, even though I hadn’t done much, something had managed to keep my mind and presence more in the now than I had been in a very long while.

I also hadn’t felt that cold in a while… Why was I so happy?

Shaking these thoughts off like water after a storm- or, no,  _ not _ a storm, goddammit, like… something else, I guess, I lost myself in my work.

Except that a few minutes later, I realized I hadn’t gotten coffee yet; where the world was my mind?

Before the dream about my mother’s passing, which I was loath to dwell upon, I had had another unsavory dream- the hurricane. When I made my way to the coffee shop in the dimly lit morning, I noticed a certain cleanness to the air, a purity and freshness that I quickly associated with considerably recent rainfall.

The ground was damp, as though it had been slicked with rain and wasn’t quite yet dry.  _ Perhaps that was the cause of my dream, _ I mused as I opened the closed, dark shop with a spare key I always had, save the few times I’d forgotten it.

Despite my well honed ability to prepare coffee precisely the way I wished it to be on autopilot, I focused my attention directly on the coffee, and let my thoughts dissolve like the sugar into the darkest coffee I held in my hands, swirling until I couldn’t see a single grain.

 

\---John’s POV---

Of course he was up early again. What was I expecting? The world didn’t stop. My outing myself- something I’d only done a couple time in my life- wouldn’t change reality. The time still passed, the world and the people on it still moved with Alex- hard and fast.

Yikes. Hard and Fast. Alex. And it was only the beginning of the day. Oh boy.

“Hey,” Alex’s voice came from the desk, energetic and caffeinated. “We should learn to get used to each other. You don’t have to hide your bruises from me.”

He’d noticed even before I did that I’d grabbed my clothes and was going to the bathroom to change. “Oh, yeah, sure, thanks,” I agreed, stumbling.

Basically, he’d just told me I could change here. Gay or what?

Sheepishly, blushingly, clumsily I did get dressed. Shorts, short sleeve T-shirt, a few colorful wristbands- and then I took it all off again. Long sleeve shirt, T-shirt on top, jeans. No wristbands because of my long sleeves. I felt drab.

“People don’t assume or judge much around here,” came Alex-the-mind-reader’s voice again. I blushed, flustered that he’d noticed me changing. And that he knew why. He just gave me a casual shrug and an open smile.

“You wear long sleeves.” I blurted.  _ Oh no. _ Again? Hadn’t I already pledged not to talk about this stuff?

His smile closed and the room darkened with his eyes. “Yes. I do.” Alex conceded, and turned his attention back to his work.

Feeling dismissed and knowing, somehow, that today would suck, I slunk to the door to get-

“I got you your usual coffee this morning.” Oh. “By the blender.”

Nevermind.  _ Today is going to be a good day, and here’s why, because today, our crush got you your coffee and remembered what you like. _ Thinking about those therapy sessions I didn’t need, Mr. Heere came to mind.

“Thanks,” I almost sang, meaning it, as I sipped my coffee.

Yeah. I definitely opened the window.

Noticing that it was daylight hours, I pulled open the curtains. My eyes were met with sparkling, crystalized, fractured light dancing over the room as sunlight shot through drops of water that sprinkled the windows.

“Considerably brighter,” Alex remarked absently, still speed typing.

“Yeah,” I agreed lamely.

“Not to volunteer evident information, but it must’ve rained.” Multitasking skills. How could he type and talk at once?

I thought of the flashes of light, the thunder that kept me awake. Alex twitching in his sleep. Yeah, Alex was a very deep sleeper. Then again, I was a light sleeper, maybe it was only me.

“From the storm last night,” I explained, laying a hand on the white windowpane.

To my surprise, I heard a strangled noise come from Alex’s lips.

“Are you okay?” I asked, head tilting slightly.

Alex had jumped up from his chair, tripping over one of the legs as he made a beeline for me. What had I said?

“Imfineareyouok?” gasped Alex, is face whiter than the perfect pearls of Mother’s necklace.

I felt so very normal. I wasn’t blushing, I wasn’t pale, I wasn’t breathing quickly, I wasn’t not breathing, I wasn’t acting weird- I thought. I gave him a confused glance. Where was that question coming from?

“Never better,” I replied.

Shaking his head, eyes wide, Alex stuttered skeptically, “A-are you sure?”

Now  _ I _ was starting to get concerned. “...positive.”

“You hesitated.” Alex seemed determined to find something wrong.

I struggled to argue. “N-no I didn’t.”

Alex nodded, seeming more calmed. He looked at me for a minute, nailing me with a heavy gaze, his soft chocolate eyes resting on my face, then he wrenched his attention from me. Instead, he stared out the window, searching for something. 

“Pardon me,” he dashed about the room, yanking off his shirt, throwing on a T-shirt, off with the pants, on with some jeans, and now I was worried enough to ask.

“You alright dude?”

This stopped Alex halfway into his slides. Slowly, he took several breaths, slipping the one slide off. “Sorry,” he apologized weakly.

Not sure how to respond, I nodded and sat slowly down, watching Alex, still nervously pacing.

After once around the room, he heavily sat down on the sofa, staring at the black, blank flat screen TV.

I got up and gently wrapped an arm around his shoulders, my heart racing. Was this ok? Was this normal? This was what I did to comfort people, right? I had never wrapped an arm around someone’s shoulders as a comfort gesture, other than my family, since I had a real friend back in high school. Pretty much 7 years ago.

Yeah. Kind of a bad Hufflepuff. _ Please, let me be a good Hufflepuff,  _ I thought. I wanted to comfort him- I could tell he was  _ not _ ok.

What did he do when I flipped out? I thought back…

Alex’s arms wrapped around my shaking body.  _ It’s ok, it’s ok… _

I was worried about what was happening, recalling my past month. So, I figured… “I’m ok, I’m ok,” I murmured to him gently.

And somehow, it works. He was losing the wild, panicked look in his eyes, one almost like a wild animal.

With the faintest, still-a-little-disturbed smile, he echoed, “you’re ok.”

Alex stood up and sat back down at his work, looking shaken. But nothing can stop Alex from working, I guess. Not even a natural disaster.  I’d bet if there was a hurricane he’d use it as writing inspiration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, I have now officially begun to publish a fic, if you love ITH, read it! It's a father/son ship between Kevin and Benny NOT SLASH in which Benny's dad comes back and Kevin gets pissed.


	34. Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically, Alex wakes up to hear a storm occurred overnight and freaks out a little.

\---Alex’s POV---

Storm. Storm. STORM. STORM! STORM, STORM- stop.

I couldn’t focus, I was incapable of anything but intense worry. I was acutely aware that I was being exceedingly irrational. Unfortunately, now was one of the uncommon instances where my feelings were too overpowering to be quelled by my logic. Think, think, think… I was writing up a drafted complaint about Jeffershit… After Peggy he deserved hell… 

Hellstorm.  _ Storm, storm, storm- _

Maybe my gut was right. No. That was absolutely unfathomable. There was literally no destruction outside the window. There were more leaves on the ground. However, they were from excessive rain, nothing more.

There- was there lightning? Thunder?

“Was there lightning? Thunder?” I blurted out the words nanoseconds after I thought them. I instantaneously shut my mouth and stared at my hands, as if I hadn’t even inquired, but internally, my pulse was on pause until the answer reached my ears.

“Yeah. I couldn’t sleep.” John spoke with a careful casualty in his voice that indicated I hadn’t quite been as discreet as I had aspired to be about my unfounded anxiety over the recent storm.

Storm. Storm. Storm. Storm, storm….

My heart resumed it’s work, faster to make up for the time. Or maybe because  _ thunder. Lightning. _

Again. I returned to the couch, only to find I’d only attempted to work for more a mere ten minutes, a miniscule time for me to ever toil.

I slipped a hand into my pocket, pulling out my phone and pressing home with my thumb so it unlocked automatically. 

**A-L-E-X-A-N-D-E-R:** Is everyone ok?

**HelplesslyBi:** Yes. Alive and well.

**AndPeggy:** No. I got a hEaRt attack seeing ur ok not okay

**GunsAndBaguettes:** I’m here

**LockUpYourHorses:** We good

**NeverSatisfied:** Peggy, I’ll list this:

  1. Caps or capitalize only the first letter
  2. Quotation marks: “ok” not “okay”
  3. NOT FUNNY



**Staayyy:** We are all perfectly safe and not dead.

They all responded in minutes, and I almost fainted with relief. Leaving my eyes to rest on the last two words  _ not dead _ , I berated my panic and lack of full sentence, as well as abbreviation. I neglected to do the abbreviation right, as well. It was “okay”. If not, “O.K.”. If not that, at least “OK”. However, I’d written  _ “ok”. _

One might refer to this as a malfunction. Or, at least for me.

I wallowed in pure relief and deep breathing and the essence of happiness for a few minutes. The survival of my closest and dearest called for a work break.

Nearest and dearest save those already dead.

No. Why was this so recurring. I groaned and rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms before tilting my head back to gaze at the white ceiling.

Well, I’d received the privilege of a relief-induced high for at least a minute before my memories derailed it. I supposed I couldn’t complain.

Still. I did wish it would stop bothering me.

It was a distracting subject.

And a painful one.

 

\---John’s POV---

I watched my… acquaintances’...? group chat step up one by one.

Alive and well.

I’m here.

We good.

We are all perfectly safe and not dead.

They didn’t make a big deal about it and it seemed like they were just saying hi. But somehow they were a bit more sober. Instead of  _ yup  _ or  _ yo _ or  _ hey _ or  _ yeah _ , they were a bit more serious.

And instead of fighting and virtually interrupting each other, they took turns. It was like they were showing Alex they were there.

Or, in Maria’s words, that they were all  _ perfectly safe and not dead. _

I was almost sure this was a direct reaction to the thing I said about the storm. Especially after I told him about he thunder and the lightning.

I sighed. Back to the worksheet. 9/10. I wished I could teach better.

But seriously, what was the fear of storms- or maybe it was just an irrational fear based on nothing. Really, that was a possibility.

Or maybe not. But it really wasn’t important, if he didn’t want to talk about it, that was his choice.

It didn’t take long for me to grade the papers, and soon the bell rang, leaving me to watch the short spell of peace that came with the storm unravel like unfinished knitting as the teachers tore themselves apart.

Again. It was pretty funny… I sighed wistfully. Why couldn’t I join their antics? Because I wasn’t witty and smart like them.

Because my social skills were bad, my comeback skills didn’t exist…

I watched affectionately and admiringly as Alex destroyed argument after argument. You could practically hear his matter-of-fact bored tone.

**A-L-E-X-A-N-D-E-R:** Your argumentative skills are evidently not up to par.

**LockUpYourHorses:** To fucking bad

**A-L-E-X-A-N-D-E-R:** Language, Herc. Also, it’s “too” not “to”.

**A-L-E-X-A-N-D-E-R:** It truly is a shame, I full heartedly agree. It is rather monotonous conducting such unintellectual conversations.

**AndPeggy:** TF is monononoos

**A-L-E-X-A-N-D-E-R:** Question mark, Peggy. There is no such thing as “monononoos”.

Yes. Judging from the chaos that sliced through the group chat, it was clear that they had purposefully been peaceful and orderly this morning.

What did they know that I didn’t? Why was Alex so scared that they weren’t ok? What did that have to do with the storm?

It suddenly occurred to me that Alex’s first thought when he began freaking out was about  _ me. _ Only after he made sure (a bunch of times) that I was ok did he check everyone else.

My heart thumped as color rose to my cheeks. He cared about me that much?

Alone in the room, I broke out into a wide grin.  _ Awwwwww. _ My blush deepened as I thought about his concern for me when I broke down- in Angelica’s classroom, in the hallway after Connor threw the printer, in the dorm.

… Maybe he did like me. Was that such a wild notion?... Yes, yes it was. He wasn’t even gay! Or bi! Or pan! Or homoflexible! Or even heteroflexible… damn. I had no chance.

And… he could’ve been worried  _ because _ of my past breakdowns. After something bad happened he thought of me first because, well, maybe he thought I was more fragile.

Oh no. This was exactly why I didn’t want other people to know about Father- now that I told him about my problems, I was a charity case. He felt bad for me. Pity.

I wanted to cry.

But his presence was addictive. I couldn’t help but cling to him anyway. The air seemed clearer whenever he was here.

**RaiseAGlassToTurtles:** Orchard?

**A-L-E-X-A-N-D-E-R:** I have no objections.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading!!!


	35. Eye of the Hurricane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go to eat lunch in the field... pretty much it. Then there's Jeff/Mads, and drama happens.

\---Alex’s POV---

I almost melted when  _ John _ asked to  _ spend time _ with  _ me _ in the  _ orchard. _ I couldn’t help considering it resembled a date just slightly. Just watching his eyes shine with delight as we coasted down the road was bliss, and it was not difficult to conclude that he loved my electric car like a family member. A family member that wasn’t his father, that is.

“Coffee please,” I handed my money for two and John stopped my hand with his own soft, freckled hand. I wished I had soft hands.

John winked at me, increasing my blush tenfold as I struggled not to grin stupidly in response. “I’m paying.”

Oh my goodness, de ja vu is real. As real as climate change and gay crushes- “It’s just ice cream, I can pay.”

John beamed, eyes twinkling with laughter, beautiful in the natural light of the window’s glow. “So can I.”

I was considerably lost at this point; I didn’t remember the entire conversation accurately. Thus, instead of speaking I reached over and tried to hand my bills to the cashier.

“NOPE!” John grinned. Without missing a beat he grabbed my wrist playfully.

He grabbed my wrist. I stopped, meeting his eyes and ceasing the play fight. Suddenly looking bashful, John loosened his stance too, letting my wrist go. I felt vaguely disappointed, as though I had a miniature bubble of soft, glowing warmth around me and it had been popped.

I maintained eye contact. John responded in kind.

“Guess you know what that was about now,” John mumbled finally as we returned to the car. I nodded with an air of soft simplicity. I did.

When we stepped out of the car, I surveyed the green landscape, fresh with water heavier than dew. Surprised, I blurted, “It’s beautiful.” In spite of the many rains, it always shocked me how little the storms did. No destruction, no pervading sense of fear.

“Is that… not normal?” John questioned, his tone implying confusion. “Grass always looks gorgeous after a shower. It’s all sparkly and green…” he beamed at the field.

I struggled to say something, _ anything _ to say that wasn’t about the storm- “Like your eyes.”

_ What. The. Fuck. _

Spluttering something I couldn’t understand, John stumbled over nothing beside me. Of course, I wasn’t capable of concentrating my attention on him because I was incapable of everything at the moment.

_ How- what- why did you say that?! I was just trying to tell the truth! Say you like him! Oh my god- oh no, never. _ My blush was so bright, it could replace the sun. My face was radiating so much heat, I could have sworn I observed my ice cream melting just a notch.

Refusing to look at John, green eyed John, gorgeous, untouchable John, I did the most unintelligent thing in my life- nothing.

I stood dumbly in the middle of a sparking green field-  _ just like his eyes,  _ I mocked myself- staring at but not consuming the dripping coffee ice cream in my hand. Then John belatedly responded.

“I like your eyes too.” I didn’t so much as attempt to glance at him. I had a sneaking suspicion he wouldn’t be looking at me if I did. “They’re, I mean, your eyes are really soft and glow- well, not glowing, that sounds weird, but they, well, they’re really nice.”

I must have perished of embarrassment and self humiliation and had presently entered heaven. “Thank you.” I rediscovered my ability to speak and move, and somehow we found ourselves sitting under a tree, silently partaking of our ice cream. I suppose we were both consumed too much by our individual thoughts to speak, but I managed to enjoy it for once, rather than letting my mind speed ahead, save a nagging feeling of dread.

I dreaded getting back into my electric chariot down back to earth.

 

\---James’ POV---

I had just finished talking to George Washington about the last details of the sub work I’d done for Alex’s semiboyfriend. Stepping out of his office, I walked into the hallway just in time to catch sight of Alex and John, who appeared to be in utter bliss.

You would earnestly believe they’d just met god, but somehow I didn’t think that was it.

They kept glancing at each other shyly when they thought the other wasn’t looking, but the timing was so off, they would catch each other’s eye and blush, hastily looking away. Again, again, and again.

“They should just get on with it and make out, yes?” Lafayette stood behind me, his thick French accent and affectionate smirk masking his resemblance to- someone I didn’t feel like thinking about, that’s who.

“Yes,” I laughed, but buried in my heart there was an ache that I couldn’t ignore. Taking my breath, stealing my mind… “They’re so open, so happy...”

Lafayette pulled his gaze from his friends to look seriously at me. “You are happy for them, yes, but you are also sad, no?” 

I nodded, dropping my eyes. 

“Thomas.” It wasn’t a question.

“Leave it.” Without a backwards glance, I was out of the orphanage, shaking Lafayette’s pitying gaze off like water after a storm.

I’d been avoiding Thomas. I just couldn’t deal with him! But like every time, I came back. I couldn’t deal without him either.

“You’re so fucking lucky I’m talking to you.” As though  _ I  _ was the one who messed up. My eyes ran over the mess I knew so well. I stayed barely a foot away from the door. Maybe it was how much other people were there for me, nice to me that I realized how much Thomas  _ wasn’t _ . Or maybe I was just done being pushed around.

I gritted my teeth. I had resolved to be my own person. “We need to talk.  _ I  _ left  _ you _ but I understand the situation is iffy. I want to finalize things  _ together _ .  _ You _ are so fucking lucky  _ I _ came back.”

I walked evenly to the couch and sat down uninvited as Thomas’ scowl wavered. Still getting used to not-spineless Jemmy, I guess.

“And what if I don’t want to talk?” Thomas scoffed, stubling to regain his control, his dominance.

Without saying a word, I put my hands on my knees and stood up. I must’ve been an idiot to hope this would work. To think that Thomas actually cared enough to fix what was between us.

I blinked quickly as I turned the tarnished doorknob.

“Wait.”

I turned around, taking my hand back and crossing my arms, my heart racing. I didn’t stop fighting tears, but neither did the tears win the battle.

“Can we…” Thomas began, one had drawn through his poofy cloud of curls. I could read him like a magazine, and now was no exception. A tangled forest of desperation, anger at me for making him desperate, anger at himself for being so desperate, and regret. Regret. I could count on one hand the number of times he regretted anything from what I could tell. “Yeah,” he sighed finally. “Let’s talk.”

“Thomas,” I started, deciding not to beat around the bush, “what are we? We need to figure that out.”

Thomas snorted. “Ha, uh, men.”

I chuckled humorously to myself, “yeah, that’s why I like you.”

I guess he heard, because he shut up. We didn’t really say that stuff to each other, as much as I longed to. 

Thomas angled his head toward mine, his eyes a patchwork of an eternally raging war. “I…”

I swallowed dryly and leaned in, meeting his lips in the middle. Soft, tender, and sweet, it always shocked me how different his kisses were than the rest of him. Confetti swirled inside me and my heart raced as he placed a calloused hand on my cheek, trembling.

His lips were dry, his hair was soft, his curls springy against my hand. My eyes were closed, and I felt his lashes on my cheek, soft and fluttering. His eyes were closed too.

“That,” I whispered when we finally came up for air, “was a kiss.” I felt like I’d been missing a piece for so long and had it for a precious minute- and now it was gone again. I always did.

Thomas pulled back, took back his hand, and scooted at least a foot away, breathing heavily. His cheeks were flushed, his hair tousled by  _ me _ , his face reflected my desire and the same ache but paired with embarrassment, shame, and self disgust. He turned away from me. He always did.

“This is what I’m talking about,” I whispered, my voice shaking worse than ever. “Are we friends or something else?” I was about to cry; I could feel my tears stinging in the back of my eyes.

Thomas shook his head violently, but said nothing. The clock ticked quietly as I moved to crouch in front of him. Thomas’ big, strong hands, the ones that had cupped my cheek moments ago covered his face.

“Thomas?” I pushed. “If you had to choose-”

“Friends.” Thomas didn’t move his hands from his face, but his voice was ragged and cut. If I didn’t know him better, I’d think he was crying.

I was. I wasn’t surprised. I knew this would happen. I knew he would choose that, and yet I was sobbing  _ hard _ into my arms. Thomas held my heart and now there was nowhere else to put it when he threw it back at me.

He closed his hands into fists, and I saw that he  _ was _ crying, at least I got that satisfaction. What good did it do if he loved me and he didn’t want to?

Thomas reached out a shaking hand to cup my chin but I jerked away. “Friends,” I managed to gasp. “No, we’re friends. Stop.”

Bringing his hand back as though burned, Thomas’ eyes burned with pain, and ache that I knew all too well etched into his features. “Leave.” he ordered in a broken voice.

“Thomas, I’m still your friend. I’m still here for you. It’s just, you have to pick one because I can’t live in the middle anymore, I’m tired of trying to figure you out, to figure  _ us _ out, I’d rather know I’m just a friend then not know what I am-”

“LEAVE!” Thomas screeched. He was a mess, his hair was a mess, his eyes and lips swollen from crying, but mess or not I knew what he could do. In this mood, he could do anything.

Without anything but a sharp intake of breath- pure fear at the feral, furious look in Thomas’ eyes, I booked it out.

Thomas still had my heart, and I could feel it ripped from me as I ran away. It hurt like hell, but I knew I’d be fine. I knew I’d made the right decision. 

Someday, I would find a way to live. Someday, I would find a way to heal. And maybe, someday, I could find happiness. Someday, someday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I combined two chapters because it was really short, so sorry the two segments don't really have a structural connection.


	36. Back to Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the two love birds find their way back to the ground... and Alex has a bit of a crash landing.

\---Alex’s POV---

Just when I thought I was safe, all the memories came right back. I felt like a teenager all over again, in one moment I would be heart wrenchingly, miserably recalling my mother, the next above a clouds reflecting in John’s affection for me and his bi-ness, which gave me a fighting chance. I had adopted the routine of attempting to calculate my chances.

50% because he liked guys and girls, and I was a guy.

Decreased to 2% because he probably knew about 25 other prospective guys our age, one of which included me.

Increase to around 20% because I hung out with him more than all the other possible partners, unless they hid very well and/or I was extremely imperceptive. This meant I had him  _ mostly  _ to myself, if my calculations were correct.

Once more increased to 35% because he actually appeared to tolerate my presence. Which was very inadvisable, considering the death rate of people I burdened with my company.

And back down to 2% because who the hell would ever be attracted to a person like me?

I trapped myself, calculating the same percentages again and again, a minimum of once every 5 minutes, despite my current occupation of teaching. It was as if I couldn’t help but hope that if I continuously endevored to find my exact chance, the number would stop dropping that one last time. It never did.

At least it kept my mind off my past, which had come back to haunt me  _ again _ . I still couldn’t conceive why.  Or why it went away before.

I had two consecutive periods left to teach after this one and I had gradually acquired the insistent need for a caffeinated drink over the past hour. The period was over in a few minutes. I resolved to get coffee during the passing period coming up. I’d have to run, but I could technically manage it.

I tried typing up a thesis statement I was working on, but my brain wouldn’t stop screaming  _ coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee! _

Just a couple more minutes…

“Hey Alex,” I almost replied,  _ Mr. Hamilton, please, _ and then I realized it wasn’t a student. The individual that approached me had a voice that was gulpy and wretched, coming from the direction of the door.

“Oh my goodness, are you alright?” I gaped at James Madison standing in the doorway of the classroom looking lost. His face was streaked with tears and moulded by an unusual mix of heartbreak and accomplishment. “What happened?” It took minimal time for me to get to the door.

James didn’t answer my question, which I was relatively positive was an indicator that it was in correlation to Jeffershit. Instead, he inquired, “Care for a break? I need a distraction.”

I grinned in relief, but was also somewhat troubled.  _ A distraction from what, exactly? _ “Your timing is impeccable,” I informed him, gesturing for him to replace me. “I was considerably losing my sanity over my horrific lack of coffee.”

“Well, I’d love to take your place,” James assured me with a watery, forced smile.

I exited the classroom eagerly, but called behind me, “If you ever find a need to vent or someone to support you, I’m always right here!”

I watched the bright worksheets slipping past on the light blue wall and pondered the possible causes of James’ distress. Thomas, probably. I suddenly realized I never disliked James, I only had hatred for Jeffershit. I had just wrongly grouped them together, letting my evident dislike for Jeffershit leak into what I thought about James. I felt really, really bad for James. However, I knew he was stronger than he seemed. He’d make it. I knew that.

The sidewalk was a lighter shade of gray than the sky, signaling that a storm might come back, right was the signs of the last one began to fade.

Sipping my coffee, I thought tearfully of the people who had passed: my mother, brother, and cousin that committed suicide. In all honesty, was suicide such a bad way to go? It would be quick, and it would all end.

The eternal pain of life-

What the hell? What was I thinking? Why had my mind strayed so dark at only the sight of an oncoming storm? To replace the dangerous musings, I resorted to contemplating exactly what Jeffershit had done to hurt James so much, and whether Jeffershit, too, was truly unhappy or angry.

I was just watching a wet splotch on the cement dry up and considering if it would be wise to avoid a potentially furious Jeffershit when said asshole’s fist met my face.

\---James’ POV---

“Uh, hello? Mr.?” A teenager approached my desk, snapping his gum. “Where’s Mr. Hamilton?”

I was mildly concerned that he wasn’t back from getting coffee, but I figured Alex just didn’t feel like coming back. If I was him, I’d go back to my dorm and chill, so I understood if that was what Alex was doing.

“Out.” I decided to say, welcoming the distraction. I didn’t want to be that one guy that called it off and then wallowed over not being together. I would not wallow.

“When is he getting back? He was going to explain the rubric or some shit.” More gum snapping. “Sorry,” he corrected himself without being sorry. “Some _ thing _ .”

“I’m not some uptight grammar and language freak,” I laughed good naturedly, without real malice. Or, well, I tried to laugh. “It’s fine.”

“But when’s he getting back?” the teen persisted. “Do we have you for the rest of the period or…?”

I sighed, knowing that even though the questions were a nice distraction, it was mean to continue to dodge them.

With a shrug, I glanced over at the time. He’ d been gone for over an hour. I chose to answer honestly. “I don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're actually still reading I'm impressed you made it this far without giving up on me so THANK YOU.


	37. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas makes Alex remember the past he's tried to forget... sending him into tears and despair and literally no one else knows what's going on.
> 
> Warning: Violence, Thomas being a bitch, suicidal thoughts and suicide attempt.

\---Alex’s POV---

“You goddamn fucking bastard. It’s your fault Sally left, and now you get all chummy with Jemmy, with, with  _ James _ and you think I can’t tell that was you?”

It was as clear as day that James did something and I suppose he assumed in direct correlation to my friendship with James. However, I couldn’t see the day very clearly as a result of several punches to the head and a couple of drops of blood that dripped into my eye.

I concluded that getting beat up on the sidewalk was worse than within a household because singular, concrete factor of concrete.

“I am completely unaware of whatever you are talking about,” I refuted fruitlessly and attempting to dodge equally unsuccessfully.

“Maybe you don’t remember,” Jeffershit snarled, causing me to contemplate exactly what tactic he was implementing. “After all, you seem to not remember plenty.”

I managed to block, noting with considerable fear the way I was unable to fight back or run away. With Jefferson’s anger at this level, I was either going to end up unconscious or in the Emergency Room. “I don’t follow precisely what you’re trying to get at,” I puffed, nevertheless maintaining my pride.

“Damn, and you think you’re too fucking smart for us. You think you’re too good, always acting like you got your shit together, but you’re a hot fucking mess, right?” Did I really? Did I walk through this community with an air of superiority?  _ Air of superiority? What? _ Maybe I did. Why was I so uptight? Was I so posh that I wasn’t even capable of thinking like an average person?  _ Capable? Average? _ … Jeffershit wasn’t  _ right _ , was he?

I struggled to pull myself together, tugging up my pants and pulling down the bloodied hem of my shirt before dodging another blow.  _ Always acting like you got your shit together… _ “I think of myself as equivalent to every other person here. Except for you, Jeffershit.”

Jefferson let out a growl of anger that I could practically feel reverberate in my head. “Well that’s pretty fucked up because I’m better than you. Let’s face it. I’m not some weird geek who thinks that academics is their validation. I’m not desperately in love with some green eyed bitch who’ll never like me back.”

When Jeffershit charged at me, probably an attempt to knee me in the groin, I tripped him, sending him sprawling on the ground. “Don’t call John a bitch.”

He jumped up, eyes blazing, a fat scrape down the side of his face. I hoped he tasted the same salty blood that I was, easily separable from the sweat. I expected him to lash out again, but he just laughed.

“Man, you are way gone. It’s like you don’t even realize that the fucker’s never gonna want someone like you. The only reason he even tolerates you is because you’re an orphan immigrant bastard and he  _ pities _ you.” I felt the heat creep up my neck and the tears seep through my closed eyes, soaking my dark eyelashes.

I knew they were making shaking lines of clean through the dust of the concrete, the sheen of sweat, and the trickles of blood that smeared across my cheeks.

“-Or have you not told him that yet?” The question slammed into me like a solid brick of the heaviest clay. He must’ve seen the impact displayed on my face because he continued, “Wow, Alexander Hamilf*g, I didn’t know you were such a deceitful person. Wow. Okay. Give me a moment- ooh, what a shock.”

Thomas pretended to stagger in surprise, but I didn’t even react, already shaking. I didn’t tell him anything about myself. I didn’t open up, and he did. What kind of friend was that, how would he ever want to hang out with someone who didn’t even trust then with an inch of their past?

“Oh-kay then, so he doesn’t know that you’re poor. He doesn’t know you’re a bastard who doesn’t deserve shit. He doesn’t know that your father skipped out because he wasn’t ‘bout to see it out with a freak like you. He doesn’t know your mom straight up died because it was you or her. If you think about it, if you died, she would’ve lived, right?”

I did think about that. I thought about that extremely often, but I really tried not to. It was absolutely and undoubtedly my fault. I knew that. I didn’t need him to remind me. So was I just dodging my guilt? 

“And then you moved in with your cousin, so he got fed up with your fucked up self he  _ killed himself _ .” Thomas, at this point was just repeating what my mind used to scream at me everyday, back when the lattice of white lines on my arms were fresh and red. Now he was driving the knife in deep again, twisting it into the wound maliciously and watching me cry. “But of course you couldn’t stop there and you deserved to die but somehow you kept living so other people had to die instead. That hurricane was supposed to kill you but it just killed everybody else instead right? You’re the reason they’re all dead.”

I was crying now, full on and so hard I couldn’t even muster a retort. Not that one even came to mind, for that matter, and yet I had hated that I couldn’t speak. When I eventually managed to gather the breath, all I was capable of choking out my throat was, “Fuck you.”

Jeffershit snickered with evident satisfaction at my tears. “So eloquent, huh.” He sauntered off, making sure I knew he was letting me go, that the singular reason I was presently still conscious was only because of his  _ graciousness _ .

“You’ll never deserve him you know,” Jeffershit informed me as he left. “You’re broken.”

I took one glance at the puddle left from the storm- tinged with the pink stain of blood that didn’t obscure my bleeding face covered in soon-to-be bruises and tears- and I knew he was right.

I was broken.

\---Thomas’ POV---

I managed to make it to my apartment before I dissolved into tears. Everything was wrong.

James was supposed to be there to stop me from fighting. James was supposed to be here, now, to kiss my tears away. Alex was supposed to fight back enough for me to let my anger out, not break down with heart wrenching tears.

And beating up Alex was supposed to make me feel better, not worse.

I guessed it was because I wasn’t saying it to Alex, not really. When I said those things, I knew inside somewhere that it wasn’t Alex. It was me.  _ You’re broken. You’ll never deserve him. You deserve to die. _ I was a ball of hurt, and I wanted the hurt to be someone else. I guessed it didn’t work. I didn’t think Alex deserved it, but I figured he would take it...

Alex, who I called weak, wasn’t, not really. And I was. I was fucking weak. Without James. Without Jemmy, I was weak.

But I could never say that outloud. I just couldn’t.

\---James’ POV--

I loved the feeling of being free of Thomas, but I missed him, somehow. I loved the way that I could sub all afternoon for Alex and not worry that Thomas would be pissed because I forgot to tell him and he would act pissed for some other reason, but I knew he missed me. But I also missed the way I knew Thomas was waiting for me, that he would do that for me. His presence used to encompass, how I would know he missed me and I would get a little spark of happiness.

I subbed the whole rest of Alex’s period and then the rest of his way, not just the few minutes I was expecting, and the brightness of the whole place washed over me until my tears no longer threatened to spill, and then I couldn’t even feel them anymore. The children soothed me until Thomas transformed from a sharp, stinging cut to a strong, dull ache.

It occured to me that Alex was not one to chill in the dorms rather than do his job. The idea of Alex ever choosing to work was otherworldly, now that I thought of it.

As yet, another question came about Alex, I decided to text him. He didn’t respond.

_ Fine, _ I figured.  _ Blame me for Thomas’ mistakes _ . Ignore me. My smile faded.  _ Guess I’ll have to deal. _

\---John’s POV---

“Your total is 30 bucks,” the guy who introduced himself as Usnavi told me, “would you like a receipt?”

“Nah,” I told him, “I’m good.”

“Would you like a bag for that?”

I shook my head. “I live a block away, I can balance this that far.”

Usnavi arched an eyebrow and asked, “Wait, you’re John Laurens, right?” He said it as though I was famous or something.

“How’d you know?” I responded, genuinely curious.

Usnavi laughed. “You live a block away- one of the things a block away is the orphanage. Most of the other places in other directions aren’t really places people live, and you don’t look like you live on this side,” he gestured forward, to the completely different neighborhood that sprawled out of the other side of the block, “of the neighborhood. You do  _ not _ love around the barrio. I can tell that much. Plus, I heard there was a new guy around working at the orphanage named John Laurens that looks a lot like that kid, Philip. I’ve never seen you before, and I see everyone around regularly. And you’re a dead ringer for Philip.”

“Wow.” was all I could reply, “your deductive reasoning skills are almost as good as Alex’s.”

Usnavi disagreed. “No, I’m just really talkative. Alex writes out his thinking and doesn’t go on and on as often as me. Except when he does, he goes  _ on _ and  _ on _ and  _ on _ and  _ on _ and  _ on _ and  _ on _ …”

“I get it,” I nodded. Of course he would. Alex was so endearing sometimes. It was really cute.

“Oooh,” Usnavi whistled, “You’re blushing!”

“He’s almost as bad as you!” a woman with black, straight hair called from somewhere behind him.

“Vanessa,” Usnavi supplied, “my girlfriend.”

I smiled, mildly jealous of their happiness and coupliness. “Y’all cute,” I told them honestly.

Vanessa winked at me. “Hell yeah we are. You know what, though, you and Alex would be cuter.”

Now I was really blushing. “I wish,” I admitted quietly as Vanessa cooed at how cute that was. I gathered what I had bought and walked out, waving behind me.

Usnavi called after me, “Wishes come true!”

\---Alex’s POV---

Thomas was right. Thomas was absolutely right. 

I pretended to be better than everyone because I talked like I was upper class, but I was a  _ hot fucking mess, _ as he put it. I didn’t have my shit together and my cousin once told me  _ fake it ‘till you make it _ but that amounted to nothing since he killed himself a week later. He lounged around doing nothing that week. I guess he was death ‘till he made it, made it away from me. Maybe he was faking liking me until he realized he could never make it and took his own route to escape.

And no, I didn’t have my shit together, none of it. I was passing through college, sure, but when was the last time I slept when John hadn’t made me? I pushed for John to tell me his problems but I couldn’t even find the courage to tell him my own. When was the last time I confided in  _ anyone? _ Perhaps everybody around here knew about where and what I’d come from but when was the last time I trusted anyone enough to talk about it with them the way John did with me?

I wasn’t honest, even with myself, about so much. I had no right to cry over my mom, I was the reason she was dead. I had no right to like John, he deserved better than some poor bastard orphan immigrant who couldn’t fight back or save a life or stop crying over things he had no right to cry over.

I didn’t deserve shit. I didn’t deserve to live. And my friends didn’t deserve to have to deal with me and all the weird things I did.  _ Can’t play a normal party game because Alex might freak. Can’t talk about storms or death or disease because Alex will flip out. Gotta wake up at 3 am to tell Alex I’m fine after his stupid self text us over a random, harmless storm. _

How many people died in the storm that was meant to kill me? Why couldn’t I die? I couldn’t even die right, goddamit.

...Could I?

With barely a thought, I found myself at the shelf where I kept the razor I hadn’t touched for months. My vision was blurred with tears, my body shook with racking sobs, and my hand trembled because I was weak as hell. I ended up cutting my finger trying to pick it up.

“That’s a sign.” I murmured to myself, tasting the wet saltiness of my tears as I spoke. I cleared my throat, hearing it echo coldly against the cold white tiles of the bathroom. I was crying too hard to finish my sentence but I did in my head as the cold, sharp metal sliced through my pallid skin.

_ I guess I was meant to die. _ I slashed at my wrists with the sharp blade, gasping in pain at every new blooming red line that spilled slow rivers down my arm.

One for my friend who died in the hurricane. I should have died.

Two for my cousin, so fed up with me that he committed suicide rather than put up with my bullshit. I should have followed in his footsteps.

Two for my brother, everything was my fault. I should have died.

Three for the town wrecked by the hurricane. I should have died.

Three for my mother, we were both sick. I should have died.

My arm stung and ached and throbbed with pain, but somehow this caused me to only become more determined. I deserved this.

Thomas was right. I was a mess. My wrists were a mess of slashed flesh, skin, and blood.

M life was a mess of death, pain and false hope.

False hope that I could start over. False hope that I could leave the past behind. False hope that my life would ever stop being a mess, that I would ever be able to  _ get my shit together _ . False hope that John could ever feel more than pity for me.

False hope that I could ever feel okay again. False hope that the cuts in my heart could heal like the cuts on my wrist.

_ Not this time. _

The voices of people I had hurt and people who had hurt my whirled around in my head, mocking my act of togetherness like a hurricane that tore up my town the way it did my heart. My spirit. Mocking my act of perfection.

_ Good for you, good for you. _

The sharp, straight, new lines that bloomed red and blurred as I cried, begging for this to be over.  _ I got to find a way to stop it, stop it, just let me out! _

They kept mocking me.

Ten cuts for me and my fucked up self and my unfounded hope and my life. I should have died. 

_ No matter. _

I gazed blearily at the bloodstains all over my lap, pooling onto the floor, gliding over the white tile, deathly beautiful. My mind stepped onto a pain laced haze, my last coherent thought.

_ I will die now. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I combined this chapter with the next one, that's why it's so long... Originally Broken was really short. The next one is too, should I combine those as well?


	38. Why?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another combined chapter...

\---John’s POV---

I finally reached our dorm, my arms stuffed with groceries. After a bunch of boxed tumbled down the stairs, snapping a bunch of spaghetti, I definitely wished I had asked for a bag, but I was here now.

_ Knock, knock, knock, knock, _ I tapped on the dorm room door with my elbow, knowing Alex was in there. He had just gotten coffee, which meant he was preparing to work.  _ If you give a mouse a cookie, he is going to ask for a glass of milk. If Alex is about to work, he is going to get coffee first. _

It was a universal truth.

“Alex!” I called, “Open the door, my arms are full!” I waited patiently for the telltale click, surprised that none came. Knowing Alex, he’d be there in half a second and then apologize for taking so long, tripping over textbooks. Maybe he didn’t hear me?

“Aleeeex!” I hit my elbow harder.  _ Bang, bang, bang, bang! _

A minute later, I realized that maybe today was some crazy exception.

With a sigh, I set down my armful, boxes of crackers and cereal, pasta and bags of chips, containers of salsa and yogurt tumbling in a heap as I punched in the code.

I knew Alex would have immediately opened the door if he was there, so I wasn’t surprised when I opened the door to silence.

Then I did hear something, like a click or a clatter, followed by a soft  _ tap _ as though something hit something else very softly. I heard someone, but I couldn’t see them. It-

Nah. It couldn’t be Father. His stealth was  _ not _ his thing. Could it be Alex?

Leaving his groceries in a heap on the carpeted floor, some containers of yogurt tipping precariously, I checked behind the furniture and the counter, but I couldn’t find him. The beds- mine made neatly and his a mess, were untouched, and the couch had nothing but piles of textbooks, folders, and papers. The kitchenette’s tiles gleamed as I scanned that area, but he wasn’t there either.

Then I doubled back.  _ John, you dumbass. _ I’d heard a clatter, the ping of metal. I wouldn’t have heard that on the carpet. Duh. Well, there was only one other place like this, and that was the bathroom. I was a bit hesitant to open the door because I believed in privacy, so I went to the door and called, “Alex?”

The sound of nothing at all met my ears, so I reached out to open the door, surprised to see my arms bare, then remembering that Alex had reassured me that short sleeves would be ok.

Then I told him- _ oh fuck please god fuck no please, please, please- _

I felt my breath speed up frantically as I pushed the unlocked door open. My breath stopped in my throat as I let out a choked sob that sounded more like  whimper at the sight I saw before me.

Alex was sitting, almost, clearly passed out. The gleaming metal blade inches from his limp fingers and the rivers of fresh blood that spilled from his arms, soaking into the long sleeve shirt he’d rolled up and leaving huge, widening stains of blood on his skinny jeans and onto sickening pools on the floor fade it immediately obvious what he’d done.

“Alex-” I sobbed, unsure if it was a whisper or a scream or if I was just crying. Salt of my tears joined the salt of his blood, and then my mind caught up with me and I pulled out my phone, my pale, freckled hand shaking.

9-1-1

I stutter-sobbed out a blubbering plea, “Help, my friend cut he, he he’s bleeding a lot please, hurry hurry please...”

The person on the other end was reassuring, and said something I couldn’t comprehend about  _ soon _ . That was all I needed to hear.

I wiped as much blood as I could off of his wrists, inexpertly bandaging them as tears streamed down my face, praying his cuts wouldn’t bleed him to death.

“Alex,” I whispered, “ _ Why? _ ”

 

\---Alex’s POV---

Still floating in an unidentifiable realm of relative uncertainty, I perceived a soft light through my eyelids and a persistent clicking that said nothing in morse code. I was significantly versed in morse code.

Did that indicate that I was still alive? I didn’t feel much of anything save numbness, I smelt nothing, tasted nothing. However, some of my senses were functioning seminormally, or so it appeared.

Why did this have to occur? I deeply desired to die, and desperately wished this could be one of those cases in which the side factor of your survival depended on your will to live alone.

Then this nightmare they had labeled  _ life _ could end. I yearned to hear nothing, see nothing, to cease to exist. I refused to be categorized as  _ depressed _ , however, because I didn’t conceive a wholly negative perception of the world, on the contrary, I was of the belief that it was generally a wonderful place filled with a majority of wonderful people.

But existing took energy that  _ I _ wasn’t worth, because I was worthless, a waste of time, space, money, and other people’s attention and happiness.

I didn’t want to die to take away the world, I wanted to die to take away myself and my horrible experience from the considerably less horrible world.

I deserved it, anyway. I’d practically killed all the people who had died that lived near me. I legitimately deserved to die.

 

\---John’s POV---

“I won’t leave him until he’s awake.”

The doctor looked apologetic but grim as she firmly steered me towards the door. “I’m sorry and I understand how you feel but we cannot allow that.”

I resisted, literally refusing to move by grabbing the doorway. “No, you don’t, I-I-I…” I trailed off, my cheeks burning. “Please just let me stay.”

She shook her head again. “Again, I-”

“No, you don’t!”

She barreled on, “-assume you’re more than friends, but we still cannot tolerate your disturbance, I am deeply sorry.”

Sheepishly avoiding her eyes, I tried not to cry. Her vocabulary reminded me of how Alex always spoke, and a single tear spilled down my cheek.

She sent me a glance of sympathy, laying her hand on my arm. “Hey, if he so much as twitches his pinkie we’ll call you right over. I promise.”

I swallowed, tears of gratitude rising in my eyes as I tried to tell her with my expression  _ thank you _ because I was afraid if I opened my mouth i would start bawling like a baby.

She checked her watch, nodding to show me she got my message and hinted softly, “You should get back to work. You work at the orphanage that adopted him?”

I fought tooth and nail to keep the shock off my face but failed miserably, too dumbstruck to even speak, let alone figure out what to say.

The doctor misread my expression. “Well, yes, I suppose I should say ‘the orphanage he works at,’ shouldn’t I. Guess he’s too old to be an orphan, huh?”

I nodded, surprised that my jaw hadn’t hit the floor, and stumbled out, driving Alex’s electric car back to the orphanage mindlessly, my thoughts spinning.

Alex was an orphan?

 

\---James’ POV---

“Hey John,” I greeted the curly haired man as he walked past me into his classroom across the hall. I stood in the colorful doorway of Alex’s classroom, sub work in hand.

Only after I greeted him did I notice the shell shocked expression that seemed stamped onto his pale, freckled face.

“Are you O.K.?” I asked, concerned. I only got a numb nod in response. I was starting to get pretty worried, so I attempted small talk, hoping to get to the root. “Um, any idea why I’m subbing for Alex? Where had he been?”

At Alex’s name, John’s eyes snapped up, pain flashing in them like a wounded animal. He went from somewhere else entirely to more present than he’d ever been in a moment.

“He’s-” John’s swallowed, looking as though he was about to cry. “In the hospital. He cut himself. A- a lot. I don’t know why.”

I sucked in my breath, and squeezed his hand. He looked at me and I smiled for his sake. “That’s terrible. It’s really terrible.”

John agreed. “Yeah. He’s really hurt.”

I knew Alex liked to keep people in the dark about his past, or rather, he liked not to talk about it, but right now I knew John needed it.

“He’ll make it, I know.” I told him, “He’s been through worse, you know.”

John looked surprised, as I knew he would, but took it in stride. “Maybe we can talk at lunch.”

I nodded, giving him another sad smile. I wouldn’t reveal his past, that was up to him. But maybe I could tell John good things about Alex, hopeful, inspiring.

As I turned to go, though, he said one more thing that made my blood run cold. 

“It wasn’t just cuts.”

I stopped, turned back around, and asked deliberately, “What do you mean?” I knew what it meant.

“There were scrapes and bruises too.”

 

\---Thomas’ POV---

I walked down the street reading my texts- Charles, Samuel, and King would be by soon. Maybe they would be impressed when they heard about me beating up Alex. Somehow the idea wasn’t as appealing as I thought it would be.

“You bastard!”

I whipped around, pulling my indifferent mask on, but it couldn’t hide my shock at hearing that from a voice I knew better than my own.  _ Jemmy? _

“How could you? What the fuck, man?” He was trembling with rage, every inch of him. I could see his fists clenched at his sides so tight I knew his nails were digging into his skin.

Just like sometimes my nails would when things got too heated. But no, that wasn’t what this was about. I could tell from his glare that this was not about  _ us. _

I wished it was. For some reason, I wanted him to ask me again. I wouldn’t change my mind, but, well, it would be reassuring to know he hadn’t given up. For some reason, I really wanted him to still love me.

“What’d I do?” As I asked, I knew the answer, and an angry flush rose to my own cheeks. Everything was always about Alex! At this point, Jemmy probably thought more about Alex than me.

“The question is what did  _ he _ do. Give me one reason he deserved to get beaten up.” Jemmy’s voice was a deadly calm, something that scared me so much more than the angry roar anyone else would have given. Like me, for instance.

The answer, of course, was that he’d taken Jemmy from me. But of course I couldn’t say that. When I didn’t respond, Jemmy kicked a rock violently, and watched it with burning eyes as it skipped down nearly to the end of the block.

I didn’t know what to say. I’d never seen him this mad.

Finally, Jemmy spoke. The fire was out of his voice, replaced with an aching sadness. To hear him that sad tore my heart open beyond- well, not beyond friendship. But it hurt me to the core.

“Do you know where he is?” 

I still didn’t speak. I still didn’t know what to say. Finally, I shrugged. I tried to look like I didn’t care, although after I beat him up, I was afraid to hear the answer.

I opened my mouth. “Tell him I’m sorry.”

Jemmy looked shaken for a moment, speechless. Was I really that much of a monster? That it was  _ shocking _ for me to apologize for doing something that terrible?

Then Jemmy regained his voice. “You can go to the hospital and tell him yourself.” My mouth fell open as I realized just how terrible I’d been. “If he ever wakes up.

 

\---Usnavi’s POV---

I freestyle rapped as I served up coffee to my regular customers, using another can of condensed milk and cursing my luck. The one day I let Sonny have a day off to chill with Pete my fridge broke and no one was here to fix it.

Uhg. Just my luck. Oh well, it wasn’t like Abuela’s recipe didn’t work.

The Rosarios entered, buying coffee, and of course a lottery ticket. I heard Daniela and Carla gossiping before I saw them.

Those girls knew all the  _ chisme. _ I had no idea where the hell they heard it.

“So then John Laurens walks in the room.” mentioned Daniela.

“Uh-huh,” Karla encouraged.

“He’s got this terrible sense of doom.” She waves her hands.

“Uh-oh.”

“It feels like you gonna get called and hear ICE has found you.” Shit that was bad. Half the neighborhood could get deported.

“Uh-uh, no!”

“It’s true! He calls ‘open up the door Alex!’ dumps his groceries on the floor. He’s been cutting his wrists like the girl next door.”

“NO ME DIGA!” The whole store gasped. I stopped preparing their coffee.

“What the hell happened?” I asked fearfully. Alex had stopped months ago, why did he start again? He was doing so well.

“I don’t know,” Daniela replied honestly. “ _ No sé _ .”

I was some sort of cousin of Alex, neither of us really knew quite the details, so his business was my business. “You have no idea?” I pressed, concerned.

She sighed and squeezed my hand. “All I know is he’s in the hospital. Sorry de la Vega.

I gave them their coffee and tried to smile. “Thanks Daniela.”

I tried to send a message to Alexander.  _ We cherish your presence,  _ _ you make our days happier. We cherish you. _ “Alabanza Alexander.”


	39. Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those who have heard of what happened, or at least what is happening, send letters in hopes that the man on the verge of consciousness can feel their love like a blanket.

_Lilies tied with a baby blue ribbon._

Hey, we miss you. I know it’s hard. I know what you’ve been through. I think we all do. That doesn’t mean we know how it felt, all those terrible things, but I need you to know that we don’t love you any less either. Please hang in there. I’ve visited you, you were asleep. I know you’ll get this, though. I asked the nurse for a pencil and paper and to read it to you sometime. I know it will be weird because it isn’t my voice.

I hope you find a reason to be happy because living when life is hell is something you’ve been doing for too long.

I want you to be happy. I will do anything to make you happier. I really will.

Hang in there,

Eliza

 

 _Freesia flowers, vibrant and flamboyant, in a elegantly curved vase_.

Morning Alex.

Or, at least it’s the morning when I’m writing this. That sounds weird. Something’s wrong with that sentence. When you hear this you’ll probably cringe and know exactly what it was. Maybe when you wake up you’ll correct it.

I would grab you coffee, but it will be cold. The doctor said not to, and I think he really means it. He understands we care about you because you have so many visitors, calls, letters, and flowers. Sorry you can’t see, they moved them to another room to prevent pollen getting places and starting infections or something.

You probably know the science behind that too. You better tell me all about how that works when you wake up. The doctor is doing everything and more to keep you alive because he realizes how much you are loved.

I hope _you_ realize how much you are loved.

-Maria

 

_Baguettes, French brie, French honeycomb chocolates._

Dear Alex,

You are very much a large part of this community. You teach the kids and we can tell they love you. They learn so much too. I know you have only taught for a few years but I know the kids you have taught will be brilliant.

Everyday I look forward to your writing and intelligent texts. I hope someday I will be as good as you at English. I look up to you, even if I’m taller. Usnavi is giving out _get well_ and _we miss you_ cards for free and he is nearly out.

I should say that my point is that we all look to you as a role model, as a hope for the future, that we all love your presence in our lives.

You are a ray of sunshine to all of us. Please, keep shining.

-Lafayette

 

_A speaker playing a track of nice but calm beats in the otherwise silent room_

Alex.

Hi. I hope you get better. More than that, I hope you _want_ to get better. Never been one for words, that was your job. But seriously, we’ve all been miserable without you. So please, stay alive.

I don’t pretend to know, the challenges you’re facing, but I hope you know you are not alone.

I never dealt with depression, suicidal thoughts, or any of the horrible things you did. I am sorry, again, for the things you had to go through.

If I can help, please let me. Let the sun come streaming in, because you’ll reach up and you’ll rise again.

I’m here. You’re not alone.

-herc.

 

_Yellow buttercups in a cone of yellow paper, tied with yellow ribbon_

You’ve done it this time idiot. I’m sorry. I should be nicer. Damn idiot, though, you know we want to slap you in the face, right? But we’re too busy crying because you’re sad.

wE mIsS yOU!

Did that irritate you? Yes? Then wake up and fix it. I wrote it in pencil. Except probably since it’s read aloud you don’t know. The caps was all over the place. Is is aloud or out loud? You tell me when you wake up.

We will love you literally to death, so don’t die with way because you have a better death ahead of you.

I miss you. Me! Peggy! When was the last time I missed anyone?

I am seriously sorry for being so mean. Seriously, I am. Sally says this is too mean for someone who wants to die.

I disagree. You’ve been through so much. Just because you tried to die doesn’t mean you’re made of glass. You’re literally the strongest person we know.

Figures you’d feel more isolated than ever if we treated you like you’ll shatter. Grammar there sucks too, huh.

We miss you. If you can’t read this- I guess if the nurse pauses or skips it’s because the paper’s wet. I’ve been crying. Tell anyone and I swear I’ll cut your boyfriend’s hair off.

*sobbing* Peggy

 

_Lavender flowers, neatly tied with light brown  twine._

Alexander,

You’ve helped so many people, made so many people’s lives better. You know how much you’ve done for people, right? I don’t know you as much as I know of you but I promise it’s all good except for what Jefferson’s said.

Lord, he deserves a beating. He’ll get it, too. I promise.

I hear you’re strong. Be strong enough to get through this.

-Sally

 

_An “√-1 <3 ma𝜋h √16 ever” poster above the bed, rainbow background shimmering _

Alexander Hamilton,

You have us in such a tangle over you. I almost got arrested for slapping the person who wouldn’t let me visit you.

In all honesty, I think visiting hours are absolute bullshit. I told the hospital idiot as much, but, well, I was in trouble at that point and I decided not to get arrested. I hope you don’t mind I wasn’t able to visit you because I’ll come back.

This letter might be hard to read because they won’t let me in. I’ve already said that but I’m pissed. In any case, I refuse to just leave so here I am, writing a letter just outside your door. Lying down on my stomach in the middle of the hallway.

Poor maids. I don’t care. You deserve a letter.

I want you here. I want you alive. I need you to hear the sterness in my voice. (Nurse, please read this in a stern voice. Thank you.) I miss you so much, sorry, they’re kicking me out, god fucking-!

This is Angie.

Bye!

 

_Piles of finished and graded work, as stack of brightly colored get well cards written and signed by kids._

Alex,

I am so sorry. So, so, so, so, so, so so sorry times a hundred. You would probably a hundred times over instead of times a hundred because you’re smart like that.

I know you told me that Thomas wasn’t my responsibility. This time it was, I promise, and I really am sorry. I am

I’ll stop saying I’m sorry. I’m sorry, this is in pen so I can’t exactly erase it… and I just told you I’m sorry again.

I am so pissed at Thomas, I can’t even- I don’t even know how to articulate it. You would, I know you would. Maybe I’ll adopt the nickname Jeffershit. I don’t want him to hate you more, though, for me using your nickname. Let’s go with Jeffersin. (@thatrandomravenclaw)

I’m not talking to him. I would beat his ass, but to tell you the truth, I think it hurts him more to be ignored so I will ignore his entire existence with my entire being. Or at least with me. Maybe someone else should beat him up. I’d applaud that.

Anyway, I’m really sorry. I know whatever he said was either bullshit or very skewed truth, so I’m sorry.

Sending prayers,

James.

 

_Lottery tickets, coffee packets, condensed milk,a secret recipe, a water heater deemed sanitary._

ALEX, WE MISS YOU

I heard from Daniela. I don’t know where she heard it from, it’s always “some little birdy”, but I had to write to you, and when word got around, so did everyone else. We love you. We all miss you, the community mourns your absence, and prays for your presence to return.

That was Sonny. I didn’t know he was so eloquent, but that’s my boyfriend for you! I never knew you that well, but I hope you get better. I hear you’re like a wonderman. -Pete

When you wake up, anything you want is free man. I haven’t forgotten you. No one has, no one will. Don’t forget yourself, because I know you think your defining trait is that you’re smart. You are, but that’s not it. It’s that you’re strong _._ Don’t forget it.

-Your cousin something or other (is is half, or once removed, or…?)

Usnavi

My boyfriend is going crazy over you and he already never relaxes. We miss you, going to college and all that whiz kid stuff. Stay a whiz, not a ghost.

-Vanessa

You would give me help with my homework, you would help me review and play chess with me (winning every time). You taught me to manage my time, my work, and my school work, you helped me do so much and so now here I am, coming back just to sign this letter to you and I’m not going back to Stanford, missed classes or no, until you wake up, even if I miss my finals for the new college term. I hope this letter helps you live.

-Nina.

Guess I spread the word more than I thought because damn, there are a lot of signatures on the back of this thing. Just shows we care.

-Daniela

PLEASE GET WELL

-Benny      -Carla -Mrs. Murphy       -Mr. Heere -Kevin  -Camila -Yesenia -José       -Julio -Martha

 

_Photo album, graduation cap, worn thread bracelet, box of dark chocolate with stars_

Son,

I know you hate it when I call you my son, but that’s what you are to me. Not only because I adopted you legally but because I adopted you into my heart. Son, you’ve stuck it out through thick and thin, you are _determined_ to make your mark on the world to shape it into something better than it is now.

I have resigned myself to simply stepping back and letting you change the world because I know that’s what you’ll do. I know that greatness lies in you.

More than that, greatness fights and thrives in you. I didn’t know it at the time, but the day you found me was the most monumental day of my life, even bigger than my wedding or my own first child because really, you were my first child.

You’ve fought depression, heartbreak, death and horrific nightmares, everyday you’ve struggled with the ghosts of your past and even after every time you’ve tried to use suicide to escape them you were still here. You are still here. And you somehow managed to be happy.

To overcome something as big as that, even if you’re still weeding out the damaging roots, to learn to live and be happy is a miracle.

You are a miracle. Keep shining your miraculous light.

-Your Father,

George Washington.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. Nothing happened. But I wanted to give a resting, peace in honor of Alex so we can see how much the community loves, needs, and values him. If you've ever felt like Alex has, please know that the people around you love, need and value you too.


	40. Blink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John visits Alex, who opened his eyes.

\---Jared’s POV---

“Ay, Mr. Curly Hair, ‘sup with you?” I asked curiously, watching him mope around with the saddest expression, like, ever on his freckled face.

He sighed. Then he sighed again. I raised an eyebrow at Evan as Curly Hair avoided my eyes. When he still didn’t say anything, I continued, “Does it have something to do with your boyfriend? I noticed he wasn’t here today. Or yesterday afternoon.”

“Jared!” Evan scolded me, trying to be stern. He was so adorable when he tried to scold.

John’s face crumpled, and to my surprise, he promptly burst into tears.

“Jared!” Evan reprimanded me again. That’s all he said but we knew the rest of the sentence.  _ You just made a teacher cry! _

I felt bad. Really, I did. I wanted to show that, so, naturally, I asked, “What happened?” also because I needed to know the tea.

Curly Hair wiped his eyes with his sleeves, clearly trying to pull himself together. “Tried to commit,” he finally choked.

Evan sucked in his breath, and I did too. So did half the class. I was mildly surprised there was air in the room at all because I was having a hard time breathing.

“He, he-  _ suicide? _ ” Evan stuttered into the silence that befell our chaotic kingdom.

That was my question. No fair. “What, what he said.” I managed, terrified of the answer.

Curly Hair nodded. It was out of my mouth before I could stop it. “This is so sad, Alexa, play  _ Despacito _ .” John looked confused, but he probably knew enough to know it wasn’t a reverent reaciton.

“ _ Jared!” _ Evan gasped, “At least a few, can, can you just give, can you have a  _ little _ respect?”

I felt a flush crawl up my neck. “Sorry,” I muttered. I actually hadn’t meant to. It was kind of a reflex.

“Will he be OK?” Alana asked, concerned.

I didn’t know how to ask, but I had the same question, and the class waited with bated breath for the answer. My class clown persona restricted me from asking but not from caring.

“I-I don’t know,” Curly Hair replied hopelessly.

Zoe approached the desk, tugging on Alana’s hand. “Maybe we should leave him alone for a bit, OK guys?”

The small crowd gathered around Curly Hair disbanded like bathbombs rolling across the floor.

“Sorry about that,” I apologised reluctantly, knowing it was the right thing to do. “I’m sure he’ll be fine, though.” I said this more as a hope than an assurance.

He tried to smile but it looked like a grimace. “I don’t know if he wants to.” Hot damn, talk about honesty.

I gave his lost look a soft smile. “Maybe give him a reason to stay.”

God, he was confused? How could he possibly be confused? It was so obvious that they were in love!

I rolled my eyes, but not in a hurtful way. “Here, let me bring this down to your level,” I estured, my hand coming down as I narrated, “Tick, tick, tick. Okay, so here we are at amatuer gay level. You like him, he likes you, he wants to die, tell him how the fuck you feel about him, give him a reason to stay.”

Curly Hair did nothing but gape, his curly hair curling more in shock. “He doesn’t…” I heard him stutter under his breath, “He’s already…”

“I won’t tell you it’s not too late, but I will tell you that in the past, it was the not doing that I regretted most.”

Curly Hair opened his mouth, probably for another disclaimer- what was he, a bathbomb commercial?- but he was cut off by the ringing of his phone. He gave me the softest nod and checked the number. His face instantly whitened.

_ The hospital, _ I thought dully, afraid of what the news was. Curly Hair was too, I bet, from the way he started to hyperventilate.

“Yo,” I called semi-loudly, trying to snag his attention like I did whenever Evan started doing this. “It’ll be fine, OK? ‘S gonna be alright, jut answer the phone. Probably good news, right?”

Curly Hair did, and the entire class froze, trying to hear wheat the person on the other end was saying through the scratchy phone. We gave up and watched Curly Hair’s face.

Still. Then he swallowed. Then he nodded, seemed to realize they couldn’t see him and replied, “Yeah, that’s me.” We waited for a second that lasted longer than a vine contemplation. 

Then his face went slack with relief and he almost tripped over his chair on the way out the door. “Sorry, gotta go guys, see you!”

I hoped he would follow my advice.

\---John’s POV---

_ He blinked, he blinked, he blinked! _ I had felt guilty the first time I used his car, to drive back from the hospital but no guilt followed me this time as I practically hurled myself down the empty streets.  _ He blinked _ . No one would stop me from getting to the hospital.

“Hi. Alexander Hamilton-” I started breathlessly, my breath puffing.

The person at the desk waved me on. “Yeah, you’re that boyfriend. Don’t let me get in the way.”

I was surprised, but didn’t argue. Didn’t hospitals have better security that this? I knew how to get to his room soon enough. All it took was a glance at the map because I knew his section- FN, and his number, 2187.  **(sorry, not sorry)** .

_ FN-2187 _ . I was there in minutes, leaving a twisted trail of confused, offended, and annoyed looks behind me as the people I cut off watched me pass.

“Alex.” I gently reached out to squeeze his hand, and the person in the room gave me a look. I drew back guiltily. They were changing his bandages, so touching him with any pressure or germs wasn’t a good idea, not with his arms the raw mess they were now.

“Can you hear me? Alex?” I watched his face with anticipation and then…

_ He opened his eyes _ !

“Alex!” My voice cracked and became a shrill squeak, but I didn’t care. I didn’t give a damn about anything except looking into his beautiful chocolate eyes, sharp and light and  _ alive _ . “Oh, thank god you’re alive!” I gasped.

“Keep your voice down,” the guy attending to Alex stepped out of the room and I smiled at Alex with all of my being. Nobody was going to keep me from talking to Alex.

What Jared said to me flitted through my mind, a rainbow butterfly that wouldn’t stop bugging my thoughts.

“Yeah,” Alex replied, not exactly dully, but not brightly either. “I’m alive.” I thought if I hadn’t been exuding happiness with my entire soul he would have been frowning. Or worse, crying.

I looked him honestly and openly in the eyes, hoping to say what I wasn’t brave enough to speak. What I did say was, “Yes. You’re alive. And that’s a  _ good _ thing.”

Alex just shook his head unhappily, his soft, dark dark brown hair rustling against the white hospital pillow gently, his normal ponytail out. His eyelashes stood dark against his skin as he blinked slowly, looking pale. Probably because of blood loss. His eyelashes looked wet- almost like tears.

I thought about how often a person tells someone not to commit suicide because of how wonderful life is and could be. I understood how annoying this could be because they’re obviously not feeling that wonder.

Finally, I asked, “Why did you do it, if you’re comfortable talking to me- and, and what can I do to help?”

Alex let out an incredulous laugh and looked at the wall, a small  breath of disbelief on his face. “Well, I’ll start from the beginning, I suppose.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay!! Flufffff!! Hurt/comfort!! My favorite, even though I write it terribly.


	41. Divide and Conquer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Boyfs are back and they may have a bit of their own problems arising... just a little. Nothing much.

\---Michael’s POV---

I resolved that John would never be hurt because of me, beginning with me not displaying my gayness on my sleeve- literally- as I had wanted to do when I came out.

Also, I would  _ not  _ give our resident asshole any reason to beat me because I wasn’t going to drag John back here either, to deal with said asshole, get beat up, and have to leave his cool job and crush behind  _ again. _

Which meant, of course, pushing my straight game to the max. I tried slicking down my hair, but it’s like Harry Potter’s- the curls just won’t stay flat.

“Get the fuck down!” My curls refused. Huffing, I pulled out my phone and kissed the picture of Jere on my homescreen, then tucked it back in my pocket and threw my stuff together for school.

2 notebooks

1 heavyass textbook

2 binders

A shit ton of loose paper

A roll of oreos- gay or not they were fucking delicious

3 bottles of MDR

4 baggies of expretly hidden weed. You would not believe how easy it is to get pills and weed. Just go to a football game and sit in the right spot on the bleachers.

Throwing my backpack over my shoulder, I trekked out the door feeling like a pack mule, meeting Jeremy at the crosswalk.

“Why are you here? The bus late?” I wondered out loud, smiling nonetheless at Jeremy’s uncomfortable morning expression. So much more gorgeous than the smooth, disdainful look the SQUIP gave him.

Jeremy just shrugged his slim shoulders, muttering sheepishly, “I dunno, just thought I’d walk with you bro.”

I grinned, praying my hood would hide my blush again. “Sure thing buddy.”

Jeremy flicked his tongue through his braces, plucking at the bands and making him look  _ very _ kissable as he fell into step with me, studying me.

“What?”

Jeremy looked away, back to the lit sign calling a football game in a couple of days. “You still got your hood on,” he mentioned, a blush coloring the back of his positively beautiful neck. I wondered whether he’d squeak or moan if I kissed him there.

Figured it would depend on the type of kiss.

I tugged my hood off, pushing it under the headphones around my neck. “I’m actually fine this time.”

Jeremy looked really relieved and I tried not to blush  _ again _ that he’d been worried. My bruises were gone, faded away, mostly, and I hadn’t gotten beaten up for a while.

Because John took those mother fucking blows instead of me. Which reminded me.

“Hey dude?”

“Yeah bruh?”

“What was dating Brooke like?” I kind of sprang the random question out of nowhere, but I didn’t really have a thing to lead up to it, so I just decided to cut to the point.

Jeremy looked taken aback, but answered, “I don’t know, ma, I felt weird because I didn’t like her, but she’s chi- she’s cool.”

I knew she was lit, she was a good friend, but I wished he would go into more detail on  _ dating _ her. I could tell Jere didn’t want to talk about it, though, so I dropped it.

After a moment, Jere explained, “I guess it would’ve been better if she didn’t dig me, you know, but she was totally into me, and that sucked.”

I nodded.  _ I’m totally into you. Does that suck too? _ Probably yes. 

Jeremy added, “I guess that’s kind of insensitive.”

The pisspit that was the school building loomed in front of us and I gave Jere a mock salute, slipping on my headphones and letting Bob Marley drown out the idiots that surrounded us.

“We dive into the chaotic fray,” Jeremy narrated beside me as we wove our way through the crowd of people. “What’s our battleplan, Player One?” he inquired.

I grinned at the nickname, something warming in my chest at the affectionate way he said it, mimed pressing my com- and almost pausing my music- and ordered, “Divide and conquer, Player Two. Stay alive.”

Accepting these orders, Jeremy returned my salute, and we turned towards our different first periods. “See you on the other side of the war.”

~~~

**Cassette:** Hey brooke did you know my brother works at ur school? He ur science teacher

**PinkBerry:** So u told me. Still won’t tell me how his arm got broken?

**Cassette:** And art

**PinkBerry:** Yup

**PinkBerry:** The guy he’s got a crush on just got outta the hospital

**Cassette:** WHAT

**Cassette:** FOR WHAT

**PinkBerry:** Trade u for info at the minute

**Cassette:** No

**PinkBerry:** About 15 sec left

**Cassette:** Fine

**Cassette:** Dad beat him up

**PinkBerry:** He cut

**Cassette:** Damn

**PinkBerry:** Damn

**Cassette:** U know all the tea

**PinkBerry:** There’s this 10 yr old kid who needs a weed dealer

**Cassette:** Tell him I got him

**PinkBerry:** Ok

**Cassette:** Name?

**PinkBerry:** Connor

**Cassette:** K

**PinkBerry:** What is it?

**Cassette:** What

**PinkBerry:** U want a favor I can tell

**Cassette:** We r txting

**PinkBerry:** I can still tell

**Cassette:** I don’t like u

**PinkBerry:** Harsh

**Cassette:** U wanna go out?

**PinkBerry:** ???

**Cassette:** I still don’t like u

**PinkBerry:** ???

**Cassette:** I just need a cover

**Cassette:** Pls

**PinkBerry:** U owe me big

**Cassette:** THANK U ILY

**PinkBerry:** Im getting mixed signals

**Cassette:** Date? Day after tomorrow?

**PinkBerry:** What happened with Jere?

**Cassette:** Can we not

**PinkBerry:** Fine

**Cassette:** This isnt about him

**PinkBerry:** Sure

**Cassette:** Its not

**PinkBerry:** uhhuuuhhhh

**Cassette:** Call later an explain

**PinkBerry:** U better

 

\---Jeremy’s POV---

“I can’t go to the game Friday night.” Michael mentioned during passing period, avoiding my eyes.

I tried to find a response that didn’t show how much it hurt. I wasn’t allowed to feel hurt. I had no right. Not after what I put him through. How many times had I pushed him away, cancelled our plans, again and again? Still, I couldn’t help a soft stab to my heart from being felt. He was always there. Always. It was a given. I ended up with a meager, “Okay,” but extremely delayed.

Then, before I could stop myself- “Why?”

“I…” Micha still wouldn’t meet my eyes, and I bit my lip, feeling like my heart was gently being stabbed right here during passing period. When had we kept things from each other? Ever?

“Get to class!” an admin hollered.  _ Jesus fuck, have patience, _ I wanted to holler back.

The late bell was about to ring, so we had to branch out again. Right before we did, Micha broke my heart. Again.

“I have a date with, um, with Brooke.” He didn’t sound happy, but I was pretty sure that was just how I wanted to hear it.

He gave me a smile like nothing just fucking happened and ordered, “Divide and conquer.” His salute felt mocking.

I returned it anyway, watching him weave into the river before I even lifted my hand, not lookin g back.

“Divide,” I replied.


	42. I Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, guess from the title...

\---Alex’s POV---

I didn’t look at John the entire time I told my story, from when I told him about my illegitimate birth to my father’s skipping to my mother’s death and my poverty all alone, to my cousin’s suicide to the hurricane that destroyed my town, to Jefferson explaining to me what I already knew inside.

“He was right,” I narrated flatly, trying not to cry. “I’m just a mess of pain and danger and memories and I try to hide it behind a bunch of academic bullshit as justification for my- my… for  _ me _ .”

I had completed the narrative, and how there was nothing less to do but meet John’s eyes. I detested witnessing the war of hate, disgust, and the shred of pity that undoubtedly was raging in his eyes, but when I gazed at him, I just saw pain… admiration?... _ Love _ ?

I wasn’t, at least in his eyes, a wretched monstrosity. An altogether much better reaction than what I had dared to hope for.

He shook his head. “But Alex, he’s  _ wrong _ . That’s not who you are! Can’t you see? You’re so incredible-”

“Just an act. For me as much as anyone else.”

“I’m not talking about academics.”

I blinked, dumbfounded. What did he mean?

“I’m talking about who you are. You suffered through all that loss and here you are now, in America, with a group of friends that clearly worship you, a list of people you’ve actively helped to overcome huge obstacles, myself included. If Mother died when I was twelve…” he trailed off, trying to envision his world as such as I gaped at his earnest words. It felt like he was making these glorious things about me, except that I was incapable of pointing out where he strayed from the truth. I never had considered it the way he did, though.

“You help kids every day to learn to be happy even without their parents. You helped Sally out of her situation, Maria out of hers, James out of his. You inspire people to help themselves.” John continued relentlessly, ticking his fingers to represent the multitude of positive things I’d done. I wondered where he got his information, and figured James. His connection to Thomas would explain how he knew about Sally and Maria, Thomas being close friends with James R. And James would know firsthand how I’d inspired him to…

“What did I do for James?” I wondered out loud as I watched John wiggle his counted fingers for emphasis.

John smiled softly, probably eager to tell me. “He told me you inspired him to demand answers from Thomas.” His sharp green eyes darkened as he spoke the name with venom I had never heard in his voice before, stoking a warmth in my heart at the loyalty in his new level of hatred.

I congratulated myself on guessing his source of information.

“Thomas told him they were friends. You gave him the courage to choose that over something… undefined, somewhere in the middle.” Wow. I felt a twinge of pride warm my heart at the mention of this step. It was one James was meant to take a long time ago, and watching him had been hard for everyone who cared about him. James had been bowing to Thomas’ ambiguity for as long as they’d been a not-thing.

“Wow,” I whispered, “that’s really wonderful.”

John hesitated for a split second and then softly took my bandaged hand, a trace of a blush showing on his cheeks. “Yeah,” he agreed eagerly, “It really is.”

I wasn’t quite fully decided about the long run yet, but I knew one thing: I was  _ not _ preparing to perish within the next upcoming minutes because  _ John freaking Laurens was holding my hand! _

_ John! Was! Holding! My! Hand! _

He refrained from meeting my eyes, instead holding a steadfast stare at our hands, which hurt for me to move even the tiniest fraction of an inch.

However, I shrugged mentally. To hell with it. I’d just gone and given myself 24 cuts. Not including the small one on my finger from going to pick up the razor or the arbitrary ones inflicted mindlessly when I was on the verge of passing out, only the ones with true purpose.

Self inflicted pain was a habit. Moving my fingers would be  _ nothing. _ Piece of cake.

Gently, I intertwined our fingers. It hurt, but I’d certainly persevered through worse, and this was the first time I’d received a brilliant smile from the guy I liked to counteract the pain.

I could’ve sworn we stayed there blushing, smiling, and gazing away and then back again for several blissful minutes before John spoke again, but I wished it were longer.

“Please stay.” he said it in earnest and without an air of demand, but it still broke the spell. I returned to watching nothing in particular as I considered the reasons why to and why not to stay alive.

I thought about my friends and concluded that perhaps it was worth it to remain with them. Then I considered what Thomas said about my family, about  _ me _ and I backpedaled- perhaps not. In reality I was nothing but a burden, I realized with a pang. However, if I died, would it hurt people?

Eventually, after what must’ve been minutes of mental turmoil, I did what I had never done before- I gave up thinking about it. I let go of my web of thoughts and extended a hand.

John took it, now angled differently to hold both my hands awkwardly over the hospital bed, and gently intertwined the fingers on that hand with my own.

“Why?” I asked the most open ended question I had ever asked in my life. Why should I stay alive? Why did he care? Why was I here? Why didn’t my suicide work in the first place- how did I not bleed out? Why was he still here? Why?

John seemed less here and more in his own world as I watched him conduct his own internal war, the conflict flashing through his gorgeous eyes.

Then, he answered all of them “I think I love you.”

I wouldn’t be capable of conveying what I felt or thought in that instant because there really wasn’t a translation of that feeling into the world’s language.

The feeling of soaring above the clouds, of being in heaven on earth, of loving life and deciding it was worth it to stay alive, the urge to cry and laugh- maybe even squeal- and the onslaught of pure happiness, mirth, love, surprise barely registering in my mind even as it showed on my face because the flood flowed through my being, through my veins replacing the blood that had drained like a colorful tumbling, rushing body of pure  _ feelings, emotion _ .

John looked afraid. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t of just-”

“No,” I interjected quickly, blushing at his uncertainty, “I love you too.” It slipped out of my mouth without my permission but the second they hung in the air, I gave them my blessing.

John shook his head, as if he didn’t understand, or thought that I didn’t, despite the blush that covered him from head to toe.

“No, I mean-” He shook his head and my heart dropped. “I’m  _ in love  _ with you.”

I truly  _ laughed _ in pure relief that he hadn’t had a separate meaning in mind. “Yeah, that’s what I meant too.”

John just stared in disbelief, then gaped with delight that shone brighter than the lights artificially shining down on me of the sunlight streaming in, lighting up his eyes from the window. “Me?”

I nodded as best I could lying down on a rustling pillow. “I’m, well, I guess this is evident, but I’m bisexual, so…” I gently squeezed his hands, which I hadn’t let go.

I could tell John needed some time to process this, as he currently appeared as though he figured it was too good to be true. “Hey, can you help me sit up?” I requested as he reached forward.

A couple curses, a few stinging cuts down and a few more bruises pressed later I was seated upright, admiring John’s skill of avoiding someone’s injuries while still doing something efficiently and gently.

When I was up, he drew back a little, looking shy and marginally perplexed.

_ He likes me, I like him, we’re _ _ both high on happiness, but what do we do now? _


	43. What goes Around Comes Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jefferson gets his due. Violence...?

\---Thomas' POV---

**ThirdKing:** We r coming tomorrow

**ForShame:** Or the day after

**CharlesWheee:** Heard you beat up a fag, T

**WhatdIMiss:** Yeah

 

Somehow, I didn’t feel even remotely happy to confirm that statement. All I could think about was the word on the street that Alex had attempted suicide- no one would tell me and I couldn’t blame them- and the terrible things I had said to him right before.

I knew without a doubt that if Alex died, it would be my fault.

I shut off my phone, the  _ click _ feeling final and all to solid in the silence that filled my apartment like heavy water ever since Jemmy left. No more of his soothing voice, his quiet love- not that I wanted it or anything. I slipped it into my pocket and walked out the door.

I didn’t like Alex, but I wasn’t heartless. I wanted to see if I could overhear any news on him, although to be fair he was a f****t and  _ god _ he was a dick.

And, like, honestly, why did he have to talk to Jemmy so much? Memories that I’d tried to suppress came back  _ again _ \- Jemmy’s hands in my hair and the hurt that flashed through his eyes, bright and fast as lightning every time I shut him out. Or, the gay part of him. I was not a f****t.

I just needed to clear my head. I figured I’d got for a stroll, as if the crisp clarity of the clean air could do the same to my mind. Clear. Cleansed.

The pavement was solid, more real and substantial than the thoughts that whirled around my head. The trees were bright and alive. The sun piercing and unblocked. Beautiful.

Until, “Thomas!”  _ Fuck. _ Angelica.

I cursed under my breath and called out behind me without turning, “Go fuck yourself,” speeding up my steps. I groaned as she literally ran to stand in front of me.

She held out a tan hand as if asking for a handshake. “Congratulations.”

I accepted it automatically, a practiced motion.

“You have invented a new kind of stupid, damage you can never undo kind of stupid.” I tried to pull my hand back but when I tugged her cold fingers only tightened. “An open all the cages in the zoo kind of stupid, a ‘really, you didn’t think this through?’ kind of stupid.” She yanked me towards her with surprising force, pulling hard on the arm that she held dight, and the fucking bitch flipped me onto my back right there on the cold concrete, the stray rocks digging into my skin like blunt knives.

The wind was not only kicked out of me- it was scared out of me. It ran away. It was not coming back. She let me go then.

I only gathered a few meager, shallow breaths. “Bitch.”

She just laughed, and walked over me, literally stepping on my heart for a couple moments longer than needed until I was forced to abandon my pride and gasp loudly for breath like a fish out of water. You try breathing when someone is  _ standing on your chest _ .

What an actual bitch.

Oxygen deprivation does harass on ability, though, so when the f** left I didn’t even move, trying only to catch my breath. Shit, it was embarrassing lying on the ground like a helpless weakling. I tried not to let a flush crawl up my neck as I fought off the thought that people were probably  _ watching. _

I heard soft footsteps behind me and I did  _ not _ want to cry. I would not. I  _ wouldn’t _ .

“Jefferson.” The voice held so much contempt that it was barely recognisable. She used to call me Thomas. She used to say my name like a god, not a regurgitated rat. She used to look up at me with love.

Right now, she stared down on me with burning hatred I had  _ never _ seen. Sally used to kiss me eagerly. Now she kicked me with fury, from the side of my head to a stomp on my knee that erupted a scream from my throat before I could stop it, and stars of pain filled my vision. 

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” footsteps receded as my sight gradually returned. Yes. I did know that. Staring at nothing, I realized I was lying right by Eliza’s coffee place. The token gay hang out. Plastered over the clean glass was a pristine sign that took up half the window.

_ FUCK JEFFERSHIT _ !

Now that was just petty. It was so petty, it didn’t sting at all. It didn’t hurt like the ache of my oxygen deprived lings, it didn’t flare red pain like my broken leg. Not at all.

I wasn’t fighting tooth and nail not to cry.

Except that I was. And it did. But I wouldn’t. I was weak, but I was stronger than that. It was funny how the hate hurt me in a deeper and more painful way than my broken leg. It was funny how I was actually thinking about this.

I just needed to get home. I imagined the ease of entering my apartment, the softness of the couch pillows, the relief of releasing streaking tears that were long overdue.

I just needed to get home. I almost laughed at how pathetic I was, a little bit of hysteria bubbling in my throat as a few clouds floated in front of the midday sun.

I thought I was a cat, but it turned out I was just an injured, cold, pathetic mouse.

As I struggled to sit up, my hands scraping against the sharp, loose rocks, I saw James walking down the street towards me. Jemmy. Sweet, wonderful, beautiful, loving Jemmy. Solace in the world that clearly turned against me.

Never before had I asked him for help. I tried not to think about how many times I’d use the word  _ please _ with him because I was afraid I would draw a blank. There was a first time for everything.

Today, under the covered sun with the prospect of being left here all day, I decided this could be a first time.

Seeing Jemmy gave me the willpower to prop myself up against the wall, just a tiny bit. Just enough to watch Jemmy walking.

I extended a hand, cursing myself as how feeble my hand looked, trembling gently. “James.”

He didn’t respond. Maybe he didn’t hear me, I hoped, a fragile flower blossoming in sunlight I knew wasn’t there. “Please.” He still didn’t look at me, staring straight ahead as if there was something infinitely interesting on the horizon. “Jemmy.”

At the nickname something indefinable flashed across his eyes, but it was replaced with the cold steel of resolve, as sharp as a sword, as he walked right me. He didn’t acknowledge my presence even with a blink.

Even when I begged straight up, “Jemmy, please help me. Please.”He walked right past me. His eyes didn’t even flick towards me. I knew he heard me. I could tell from the tension in his beautiful frame. I wanted nothing more than to pull him close and leech the tension out of him until he relaxed into my touch- but it didn’t do to think like that. I couldn’t even move.

As he walked away, each step a new wound, I felt the dam break inside of me and the floodgates opened, tears filling my eyes. I whispered brokenly to myself, “Jemmy… Jemmy… Jemmy…” each time more meaningless than the next.

My Jemmy had been the one constant I could count on. My Jemmy had always been there when I needed him. My Jemmy always sent me love when I didn’t… 

When I pretended I didn’t want it.

And my Jemmy was no longer mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That whole chapter was me being petty...


	44. Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title pretty much sums it up. It's super short, but I hope you like it anyway!!

\---John’s POV---

He looked really nice, and really happy- almost as happy as me. I was still reeling in shock from the fact oh my god he  _ liked _ me, but the shock was starting to lose it’s sharp edge and the happiness was beginning to flow.

Wow.

Just.

Wow.

Alexander Hamilton, the world’s most wonderful, adorable, smart,  _ amazing _ person liked  _ me. _

I looked at him shyly, a lock of hair not tucked behind his ear as it usually was. His hair was so smooth, straight, and dark, but I noticed it curved a bit, probably because it was always tucked behind his ears- a habit that was normal.

See? Adorable. So. Freaking. Adorable.

I could tell it was bothering him too, because he subconsciously glanced at it and twitched his fingers, without even noticed. Of course, he was bundled up like a mummy, so he couldn’t tuck it like he usually did without a thought.

Blushing brighter than the sun, I reached forward and did it for him, feeling his soft hair slide through my fingers.

_ Go for it _ , my brain whispered to me as my fingers traced his jawline. I couldn’t stop. He was just too beautiful. I really, really, really, really, really, really wanted to kiss him, looking so  _ Alex _ - _ like,  _ biting his lip nervously and watching me through his eyelashes because his head was tilting downwards just a bit towards his fiddling hands.

_ Go for it! _

So I did.

Gently, I tipped his chin up with the hand that hadn’t left his face, my other hand taking one of his and intertwining our fingers.

He closed his soft brown eyes as I leaned in, letting my own flutter shut, and then our lips met, gently, softly, sweetly, so purely that I felt like I was exploding with sunlight from the inside out. His siped lips were dry from the house he’d spent lying in the hospital bed without chapstick and I didn’t care because it was  _ Alex! _

I pressed my own lips to his, longing to go farther as I let my hand that wasn’t holding his rest on the small of his back between him and the backboard of the bed. His hand, which had come to rest on my cheek, slid to my neck, the rough bandaged hand pulling my closer. I scooted closer to him on the bed, hearing the slither of the bed sheets as I pushed his gently against the wooden backing.

Alex let our lips drift apart again, our foreheads resting against each other. I was so close, I could count each of his soft eyelashes, gaze into his intense, piercing brown eyes for eternity. He was gorgeous, a light blush ghosting over his cheeks, his lips parted the tiniest bit, his eyes a little bit closed. 

And then they close all the way, and his tipped his head back ukp to meet my lips, his own parting softly after a second, an invitation. I accepted, of course, slipping my tongue softly in and feeling him respond in kind, setting the world ablaze with light and color even as my eyes stayed tightly shut. I had wanted to do this, ached to kiss him for so long that it felt years overdue, weeks of yearning compressed into this one moment. His tongue explored my mouth and I slid seamlessly into absolute heaven as he guided the kiss gently and softly. 

I hated having to pull away for air, but I stayed with my face inches from his as I blushed wildly.

After several gulps of air, I told Alex wryly, “Yeah, I’m definitely in love with you.”

Alex, with a sly smirk and twisted warmy in my stomach,  pecked me on the lips before responding, “That’s been confirmed.”

I was just leaning in again for another kiss when a hospital person walked in. “Hey- please don’t. The last thing we need is more germs. He’ll be out soon, probably tomorrow. Until then, visiting is over, so…” He gestured out the door apologetically.

Curse him, may he rot in hell. “A minute?”

He shook his head. “Sorry.” He didn’t look it.

I looked back at Alex and kissed his bandaged hands before backing out the door.

“Love you,” he called out after me.

What miracle gave me the love of someone like him?

 

\---Alex’s POV---

_ He kissed me! I kissed him! We kissed! _ God, I wasn’t a huge believer but I thanked God anyway. Or, perhaps more accurately, I praised the Holy Mother of Gay. Kudos to Jared, who was religiously dedicated to that saint.

Wow, that was beautiful. For the first time since waking up in the hospital, I found remaining awake to be an appealing option, whereas before I had tried to sleep off my life- or hoped to, anyway.

“Hey,” I asked the person working the hospital room hopefully, almost chuckling at the shocked expression on his face that I had gone from lying motionless in bed to sitting up casing sunrays out the window. “Is there any way you could get me some coffee?”

“My got, it’s like you came back to life! You think you’ll pull through? They left a bunch of coffee items right outside your door, I’ll make some.” the guy replied, tucking his gloves in his white coat as he left to grab it, surprising me considerably because my expectation was that they’d have set restrictions on caffeine as well.

I smiled tentatively, and then more joyously as I realized th e bruise on my cheek wasn’t as bad as I thought. The pain wasn’t as bad as I thought.

“Yeah,” I responded with honestly, “I believe I just might.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love everyone reading so much!! Thank you for making it this far into such a freaking slow burn!


	45. POV Hopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess from the title.

\---Justin’s POV---

I had to get it for her, I just  _ had _ to. I jiggled my knees nervously as I waited on the text.

**Unknown Number:** My bro said ur looking for a little something something for a certain someone

**Unknown Number:** Some girl u wanna b touching

**Justin Laboy:** Yeah

**Justin Laboy:** Yes

**Unknown Number:** Friday night game, bleachers, row 4, column 20 (left 2 right)

**Justin Laboy:** I’ll be there.

**Unknown Number:** aight

**Justin Laboy:** Okay

I watched as the guy- or gal or neither- read my message. They weren’t typing. I guess that was it. I felt a warm flicker in my chest at the prospect of Naomi  _ noticing _ me for once when I got what she asked for.

**Justin Laboy:** Hey

**Naomi <3:** Hey

I hesitated, fingers frozen above the keys as I thought desperately for a reason to talk to her.

**Justin Laboy:** U wanna copy my hw?

**Naomi <3:** Yes pls

Quickly, I opened my folder and pulled out my homework, neat and complete. I cursed myself for not bringing it out  _ before _ I texted her because now I had to pull it out and take a picture instead of having it ready. She was probably already getting bored.

**Justin Laboy:** [picture]

**Naomi <3:** Thx so much, xoxo

I felt my face flush as I grinned stupidly at the screen even though I knew it was only a casual  _ thanks _ . Naomi was just like that. 

Maybe if I got her this marijuana, I would finally catch her attention, more so than a regular classmate. As it was, she glanced at me like I would an A: not bad enough to hate, but not good enough to truly be satisfied with.

 

\---Jeremy’s POV---

“You know where to sit?” Michael looked at me, having at least the grace to look mildly guilty. Actually, I didn’t mind, being literally willing to do anything he needed me to.

I just nodded, trying not to remember why he couldn’t just go himself. He came out to me telling me he was gay and then went and dated my ex-girlfriend. What the actual fuck?

I couldn’t meet his eyes. What if he was how much it hurt? I was glad my stop was next.

Michael moved in front of me so we were facing each other, pausing his music and slipping off his headphones in a single practiced motion, his hood slipping off with is so his caramel skin glowed.  _ Fuck- _ I looked away, out the dreary window, wondering where the light that lit Micha’s skin came from. Not the fucking gray sky, or the drizzle that had morphed into a downpour in 7th period.

“Are you ok? You’re acting weird.” I dropped my eyes, trying to avoid his warm brown ones.

Bad idea. His jeans hung loosely from his hips, reminding me of my dream last night. I blushed redder than the right Mountain Dew and looked back out the window. “Yeah.”  _ No _ . My mood was pouring rain, sun blocked by clouds of ex-girlfriend and mega crush together without me.

Even without touching him, I knew Micha’s body was still tense with concern.  _ Just let me out _ , I thought frantically.

Damn, why was I so fucking awkward? When the bud reached my stop, I dashed out, waving to Micha and matching his salute.

At least I survived the day.

 

\---Michael’s POV---

Usually, I got off the bus right after Jere’s stop. This time I waited, checking my texts to make sure I was right about which stop to get off at. I would have to walk. Life sucked. Hopefully this kid was worth meeting, which I would have to do if the logistics didn’t work out. He had better be lit.

When the bus did stop at the corner I thought it would, I got off, thanking the bus driver because why the hell not, and set off down the cracked pavement and past the painted signs to orphanage something or other. It really didn’t matter.

“Yo, miss!” I caught some random lady from the desk coming towards me. “You got a list of orphanages?” She looked like a motherly, kind woman, glasses and gray streaked hair paired with a soft smirk.

The woman looked at me for a long time, gray eyes searching. I started to feel uncomfortable, despite the comforting vibe that was amplified by busy, quiet rustle of people around, bustling about. The piercing gaze I was enduring was beginning to make me hyper aware of the doors, wondering if this was the old lady that morphed into a killer and whipped out the hidden knife. I fell for that trick almost every time I got a new game.

She shook her head as though she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “Michael…”

I deadass froze, aware of every twitch of fingers in the room, every time she blinked. I tried to place her, but I felt like we had never met. Maybe when I was super young? This was fucking creepy.

She chuckled lightly, assuring, “I don’t bite. It’s just, we’ve been so worried recently, about you, because we heard your father-”

“How do you know me?” I interrupted tensely. If I had a blade strapped to my thigh, I would press the button to draw it. 

The woman’s face crumpled ever so slightly, but she only answered me with a sad smile. “Where’s the orphanage you’re looking for?” I watched her rifle through the files in the metal desk drawer.

I shrugged, deciding to be honest. She didn’t seem untrustworthy. “It’s called Graham Windham.” I looked down, then back up to meet her gaze. “I’m looking for where it’s at.”

The truth was, I would just look it up and erase my history, but I wanted to make sure there was absolutely no trace of the orphanage and that meant seeing a map and committing it to memory. The last thing I wanted was for our RAH (resident asshole) to find out which orphanage John was working at and drag him back home.

The woman handed me a map and I thanked her, the freshly printed paper crisp and warm in my hand. I studied it a little- it was on the edge of a neighborhood called Washington Heights.

_ Washington Heights _ . Damn, I knew it was far, but this was hours away. Well, I’d have to get Brooke to come half the way, maybe. Though if a 10 year old kid was buying pot, I wanted to meet him.

“Michael?” A man whose voice I didn’t know spoke my name from the doorway, rough and surprised as the woman at the desk.  _ What the actual fuck. _

Leaving the paper on the polished wood desk, I grabbed my bag and walked out as fast as I could without seeming suspicious. 

What the hell was that?

 

\---Peggy’s POV---

“Hey cutie, when does your shift end?” I giggled, wiggling my eyebrows suggestively as a blushing Sally. She knew I knew she didn’t have a shift today; she was only working because she felt like she should.

She ducked her head, letting her dark braids swing in front of her face like a curtain. “Four- seventy.” I heard her shy smile in her voice as her fingers hovered above the register.

I raised a single eyebrow and raised a second coffee- exactly how Sally liked it because I may or may not have spent the last few days watching her with more butterflies in my stomach than a monarch migration.

Sally unconsciously pulled her hair behind her shoulder, exposing her beautiful skin, the shade of rich chocolate, as she eyed the smooth, steaming hot coffee. I had added two spoonfuls of sugar, a little bit of cream, and twice as much milk as cream to create a shade just lighter than fully black coffee, which only freaks like Alex ever actually enjoyed. Sally asked quietly, “Um… what item is that?”

I winked at her and mimicked a kiss- a completely friendly kiss. “Yours.”

Sally’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Pardon?”

I rolled my eyes and recited the things I’d added to the coffee, pretending to think as if I hadn’t memorized them by heart.

Sally broke out into a grin, like the sun peeking out from behind the clouds. “You know my order?”

A couple blushes and a few shy protests later, we were tucked away in a corner of the coffee shop, cups of coffee in our hands as the dynamic duo easily filled in Sally’s vacated job.

“So, hi!” I couldn’t wipe a stupid smile off my face.

“Hey.” Her shy smile was directed, like her eyes, to to the coffee cup that she held close as if to keep it warm, but there was something so personal and perfect about her. I knew she was smiling at me.

As did the butterflies in my stomach.

I smirked at the window and tipped my head towards it. “Did you see Jeffershit, just sitting there?” Sally looked up quickly, and in a beat, I cursed myself for being such an idiot. “Oh my god, I’m sorry, I totally get that he still scares you, I completely forgot that day in the store-” I broke off bright red. I hadn’t forgotten that day in the store at all. It was fresher in my mind than anything else, and reliving cupping her face, fighting the urge to kiss her perfect lips was not a moment I had relived with moderation.

Sally laughed, a gentle, warm sound without a trace of mockery. “It’s ok, I’m good with him now.”

I sipped my coffee. “Ok. Well. He has a  _ broken knee _ ! I’m not even kidding you can see for yourself!”

To my surprise, Sally didn’t look shocked even a little bit. Instead, this girl had the sass to break into a world shattering, unrestrained smile that lit up our little corner with a glow as though she’d just been pulling her happiness into her and then let loose in this moment, letting it light her up from the inside out.  _ Gorgeous. _

“I…” She looked at me, catching me with her eyes. “I know. I broke it.”

 

\---Sally’s POV---

I unconsciously smiled, beaming, for a minute before I reined myself back in, uncertain as to what just happened. Maybe it was Peggy’s frank, laughable honesty or the way she seemed to rule her life.  _ I _ didn’t rule  _ my _ life, always following a code that wasn’t someone else’s, but wasn’t  _ mine _ per say, either.

Peggy was unabashedly herself without a care, yet she wasn’t a mess. Maybe I just felt like that carelessness could transfer to me, just for a moment.

Or maybe it was the way Peggy’s goofy grin was a request, an invitation to drop my veil for a second.

Peggy never wore a veil, her face the utter portrait of her inner feelings. Like right now, she was openly gaping with no remorse, her eyes bugged wide and her mouth hanging open. But it wasn’t the  _ oh my god black girl fight, whoa _ type of  _ whoa _ , this was definitely wonder.

Lord, what an adorable look.

“No way,” she finally grinned, making it obvious she believed me.

I shrugged, trying to shrug off my irrepressible smile with it and giving up sooner than I should have. “He was already on the ground because of Angelica,” I allowed.

“Oh my god!” Peggy screeched, practically vibrating with excitement. She hollered to no one in particular, “Sally is a badass!” and turned to me with a pleased look, adding, “You are awesome. You’re  _ literally _ so awesome.”

Now that just wasn’t fair because lord, she was so much more amazing than me. “You too.”

She seemed to light up when I said this, and then playfully replied, “Not like you, miss I-broke-my-ex’s-knee.”

I grinned at the ridiculousness of this because she was everything I wasn’t- confident, loud, assured, outgoing- and if there was one thing I had ever done that sounded like something  _ she _ would do, it was breaking Jefferson’s knee.

Nevertheless, I gave her my most open smile, to precede one of the most open statements I’d make in a while. “No. Not like me. You’re amazing in a different way… like I’m a nice, quiet, bubbling, steady river and you’re like…” I considered, finally settling on, “a fireworks show, you know? Loud, exciting, out in the crowds instead of tucked away in a nature nook… dramatic, heartfelt, gorgeous-”

_ Oh my lord I did not just say that. _ I prayed and prayed I’d imagined that word that slipped out of my mouth, a milling messages to god in a couple seconds that it took for me to hide my face with my cup of coffee and down a scalding gulp that burned its way down my throat.

Peggy seemed undisturbed. “Gorgeous? Me? You should see yourself, Sally, what a  _ queen _ .” Her blush, though, was unmistakable as I gently scooched back my chair until I was positive I could make a smooth exit without tripping over the plastic covered metal framed chairs I had stumbled over countless times. 

She didn’t notice, winking suggestively as though she  _ knew _ it made my stomach flip as she allowed, “though, of course, if  _ you _ say I’m gorgeous, I’ll take it. Any day, honey. I trust you have the bestest taste in women.”

_ Shit. _

And with that, I was stumbling past the counter, a single drop of coffee hitting my skin as I darted into the back room, pretending Peggy’s calls were falling on deaf ears.

_ God damn, Sally, keep your head _ _ on! You can’t say stuff like that! _

I knew it all too well. Jefferson, I knew, was right out the door.


	46. Divide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is again, the two couples we’ve been following in the periphery- Boyfs and JeffMads…

\---Jeremy’s POV---

“Hey.”

“Hey.” I tried not to feel miserable as we plopped down to lunch, taking the slushy he held out to me as he rummaged around his messy backpack for my midday MDR.

I had always been pining after him, but now that he was officially dating someone else, it hurt like a bitch every time I looked at him.

His perfect tanned skin, supple and smooth. His dark, softly curling hair, his warm eyes covered by nerdy glasses that he wore as proudly as someone else might wear their J’s.

“Yo, dude, you good?” Michael’s smooth voice wrenched me out of my thoughts as I realized a little too late that I had been staring not-so-subtly at his painfully kissable lips. “You’re- or you  _ were _ spacing out. Kind of staring. Am I turning into a zombie?” Micha joked, laughing and lifting his shirt so I could check whether or not an infection was spreading. 

I tried to look analytical, but all I could see was that golden brown skin so fucking perfect, and I wanted to run my fingers up his sides, up his shirt, farther, to trace the pac man on his left hip-  _ fuck _ . His pants didn’t sag, but they weren’t clinched super tight either, and they hung just low enough for the rim of his underwear to be just visible…

“Jeremy?” The shirt dropped back down, covering Micha with a red sweatshirt again, and I jerked my eyes away, feeling my face burn. So close and so far, the divide between us felt like a canyon.

I crossed my legs, willing it to go away. It didn’t. Fuck imagination. I was in  _ school _ for god’s sake.

I winced and stared at a spot a little to the left of him, replying, “You’re fine, Player One.”  _ So fine. _

Michael’s smile was like the sun, so bright and warm. “Sure am, bro.” When my smile only make it halfway to my face, his turned into one of concern, and again he pressed, “Are you?”

“You’re dating Brooke.” I blurted it out like an accusation. “Awww, fuck, I mean-”

Michael shook his head, a mix of emotions playing tag across his face, settling on earnest. “Well shit, man, if you want her, I’ll go break up right now!” He was already pulling out his phone, and an irrational warmth blossomed in my chest. Maybe at the idea of him being single, maybe at his instinct to choose my happiness over his every time.

“Nah, nah, it’s... not that.” I quickly said, pushing his hand down.

Michael eyed me quizzically, as though suddenly I had been replaced with a look alike that he couldn’t figure out. I just shook my head as if to clear my brain and move ahead.

“Nevermind.”

“Seriously, if you’re into her-”

“Dude, bro! I’m not!” When I get nervous my whole face goes red, so I must have been as red as a rose. The truth was probably painfully obvious, but Michael had been oblivious for as long as I could remember.

A  _ ping! _ From Micha’s phone saved me and Micha dropped the subject. “Brooke’s coming here for the date because she’s sick of this one kid… when you get the pot can you bring it right over? If you get there soon enough, Brooke will still be there and she can bring it back to Windham.”

Micha scrolled through the messages mindlessly as he figured through the timing before shutting off his phone.

“Totally. I got you man, don’t sweat it.” I stumbled quickly like an eager to please puppy.

Micha grinned at me, warming me again. “Let me know when you got it.”

I nodded, my heart sinking at the thought that I couldn’t get out of my head- why I had to get it instead of him- that he would be on a date with Brooke. “As soon as I can.”

Michael must’ve noticed I seemed down, but he probably pegged it as me not wanting to be the total loner at the football game, because he gave me a friendly punch. “I’ll find a way to repay you Jeremy.”

_ Fuck. _ Why did everything sound dirty to me?  _ Shit, shit, shit, shit! _

“Uh….” I bolted up from my chair as unneeded images and scenes popped into my mind without permission. My lunch tray provided a shield for my private area. “Gotta go to the bathroom, man.”

Micha looked rightfully bewildered at my odd and continuously changing behavior and his confusion was the most adorable thing, with the cute crease between his brows and the thick lenses making his eyes shine just a bit brighter. 

Nevertheless, he nodded. “Ok, bro. Divide and conquer.” He lifted his hand in a salute, which I returned, one hand still holding the tray strategically. 

“Divide...”

 

\---Thomas’ POV---

They were here. Today. They would be here in an hour and my fresh cast was barely set, let alone ready to come off. I wished desperately that Charles, Kind and Samuel would wait a couple more weeks. Preferably a could more months, but beggars can’t be choosers.

As it was, I had no options to choose from. They were coming today, they would see my cast and…

Well, they weren’t exactly the most loving and considerate people. It occured to me that neither was I. I always wondered what made such guys hang out with me of all people- but maybe it was because I was more like them than I liked to admit, and I disliked them more than I liked to admit to myself, so I couldn’t admit to myself that I didn’t want to be like them. The mind can be very deceptive.

Well, that and also because a part of me did want to be like them. None of them wanted to kiss their best friend or tug them to their bed or hold them in their arms forever. I wanted to be able to hate f*gs so bad, with the contempt and disgust they did. I ran my fingers through my hair, following the paths that Jemmy’s fingers had just days ago. I wanted to breach that gap of days, but what do you do when there’s this great divide?

The fact that I wanted him made me want to puke.

I had to stop thinking about Jemmy. James. I let my hands drop from my hair, knowing it was really because it wasn’t the same, not because he could drop from my mind like my fingers from my hair. They say time heals, but everyday without Jemmy was a multiplication, not a division of the growing ache in my chest.

It didn’t help that he lived across the street, and everyday his perfect self came home, opened the door, and slipped into the house like water through my fingers as I watched from the window.

And here I was, thinking about Jemmy _again._ _James._ James.

Anyway, I could always tell the trio I’d come down with a nasty fever, and their lack of compassion would probably mean they wouldn’t even come visit. Even if they did, they wouldn’t see my cast beneath the pile of blankets. I quickly pulled out my phone and texted  _ sorry, can’t join, fever in the house. _

They didn’t care. Their texts showed passing concern and the equivalent of a pat on the shoulder.  _ Get better. Too bad. It’s cool. _

I hobbled to the chair by my window, flipping through a book mindlessly, trying not to think about when Jemmy might get back, when I might see him again.

 

\---James’ POV---

I wandered back to my apartment, the trees, half bare, blurred in my peripheral vision as I tapped away on my phone, trying not to grin like an idiot. Looking up for a second, I caught sight of Tho- Jefferson’s apartment, right across the street from mine, just in time to see his silhouette duck its head. Was he watching for me?

The thought of him was enough to wipe the smile from my face, sinking the delight that swept through my chest at the playful teasing on the group chat that spewed playful banter nonstop.

I finally was part of their untouchable squad, a group of tight nitt friends I’d wished to take part in for years, ever since Alex had arrived and unknowingly drew the group together into the loving, one-for-all dynamic it embodied now. I never had friends like that, and when they quietly invited me into the group chat, it was like their stamp of approval. The entry ticket.

To finally be part of something felt amazing, but as I looked over at Thomas’ now empty window, I realized I had been part of something else, too. Now I wasn’t, and it stung worse than salt on a vicious cut, the longing I had suppressed for days rushing back at me like an ocean wave. All at once, pulling me, drowning me. I wanted to throw myself over the divide that tore us apart. Maybe it would n’t hurt to talk to him… 

“Hey, look, another f*g!”

God damn it, King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY INTERNATIONAL FANWORKS DAY!!! Love ALL my readers so much!! <3 <3 <3


	47. Write Them Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John finds Alex writing reports on Jefferson and Henry, and then they get all lovey.

\---John’s POV---

I threw my phone down, the cloud of happiness falling away.

Alex, on the couch beside me, as awkward as a nerd as a football party, lay a hesitant hand on my shoulder, still stiff with thick bandages. “What is it?”

I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, face in my hands. “Michael got a boyfriend.” God,  _ fuck. _ It must have been my fault too, because I told him to act straight. It didn’t feel fair that I was dancing around in heaven with my crush while he drowned himself in a pool of misery.

To even imagine Michael pretending to be anything but himself- it hurt like hell as an idea dressed up in ribbons, tied with a crimson bow, but as a reality the sugarcoat fell off like rain, like plummeting stars that blew the sky into darkness. It tore my heart to pieces.

Alex’s tone was almost guarded as he asked, “Who’s Michael, again?” and in that moment I wanted to laugh at his concealed jealousy, to let hysteria bubble and burst out of my lungs in a delusional form of pain and tears.

“Brother.” I managed, and then in explanation, “Gayer than…” Michael’s deadpan voice sounded in my head.  _ Two rainbows making love. _ I gave up the struggle to speak and just leaned into Alex, who probably split open ten cuts, bandages rubbing and tugging at his skin as he wrapped an arm around me.

Alex ran his bare fingertips on my arms. “He’s playing it straight.” The infuriatingly genius Alex probably didn’t even notice his instinctual play on words.  _ Playing it safe. _

I swallowed my pain. “He’s prouder than a peacock… it must hurt like hell for him to…” I shook my head and lay down with my head in his lap, the skinny jeans he wore rough against the back of my neck as I looked up at him.

Alex’s hand went up to his hair to tug thoughtfully, a habit I knew from too many hours staring bashfully.

Alex reached over me to the table in front of the couch, grabbing his laptop from the rich brown wood and putting it on the armrest on his side because his lap was taken.

I sat halfway up. “What are you writing?” Alex had picked up his computer the moment I plucked up the remote to turn off the TV, the second the credits of Love, Simon began to roll.

Well, after a few chaste kisses and tearful hugs. 

Alex flashed a rueful smile laced with caffeine and sleep deprivation that followed him like a cloud since he came back. He was determined to finish all the work he’d missed. I figured it was a paper, but he replied, “I’m writing up Jeffershit for being a dick because words are, contrary to popular belief, capable of working miracles.  _ Sticks and stones may break my bones but words are what restrain me. _ ” He recited this like a mantra, or as though he was quoting someone, but when I asked, his only response was a nonchalant shrug. “I was just thinking off the top of my head.”

I rolled over just a bit to kiss the closest part of him, that being his jean-clothed inner thigh, and he flushed adorably, his quick fingers flying to the delete button at the flustered mistakes.

“Also…” he trailed off, switching tabs to another essay-like document filled with big words, legal terms, and academically veiled fury. “Henry. I was writing up a complaint for him based on what you told me but…” He looked at me, to which my wide eyes could only blink at. He what? He was writing up Father?

I mean, sure, he liked to write, but  _ damn _ he wrote all that for me?

I raised an eyebrow as his furrowed hesitantly. “...But…?”

He looked at me quietly. “I didn’t want to pry, or you know, trespass any sensitive subjects.”

I dropped another kiss on his thigh, watching him squirm. “Ask me whatever ok? I’ll tell you if it oversteps.”

I grabbed my phone. Father was getting written up. Michael needed to know.

**Michael:** I got a gf

**John:** My crush is about to write up father

**Michael:** Thou hath chosen wisely amongst the men

**John:** I know

**John:** I don’t know how long it will take to go through though

**Michael:** On it

**John:** That wasn’t a request?

**Michael:** I said I’m on it

**John:** On behalf of my crush: quotation marks. “I said, ‘I’m on it’”

**Michael:** Oh god he a monster

**John:** No, he’s an angel

**Michael:** Jk, jk, you know Im kidding

**John:** Love you

**Michael:** Love u too

 

**~ ~ ~**

 

“That was so fast,” I gaped, watching Alex finish editing his write ups. “That’s both of them done?”

Alex smiled shyly, rays of pride peaking through. “Yeah. We just need them to go through.”

“How long will that take?”

Alex closed his laptop and leaned into me, a flush crawling up his neck as I kissed the top of his head. “Could be months. Last time I had a friend on the force, now they work in the military…”

I wanted to wrap my arms around his skinny frame and pull him closer, but even though we were pretty much a thing, I was too shy. “All you need is a new friend. Or at least a sympathizer.” Insead, I wrapped my arm around his shoulders.

Alex snuggled closer, each move a shy one, as I updated Micha on the status of the write-ups and dropped another kiss onto Alex’s forehead.

“You’re the best,” I murmured into his hair, dark and pulled back loosely into a soft ponytail that brushed his shoulder when he turned his head to look at me.

His soft chuckle ghosted warmly over my neck and a slip of collarbone that I was suddenly hyper aware of being exposed from beneath my loose T-shirt. He gave my jaw a soft, chaste kiss. “I beg to differ. It’s simply that I’m aware of what I am marginally talented at and am able to conceive an idea that plays to my stronger points. I am in no way Shakespeare, but I have found my writing to be… moderately convincing.” Alex said this shyly, looking more at the collar of my shirt than at me, and it was adorable.

I couldn’t help it. I gently cased him so he was leaning back and I kissed, feeling his back rest gently on a pillow behind him.

My hand hooked two fingers through the hairband that kept his hair back, pulling it smoothly. His hair smelled nice, like the tropical fruit shampoo that was on the bathroom shelf right now, essenced with coffee. I ran my fingers through his hair until I felt the arm of the sofa on my hand, and then let my hand stay there to save Alex the discomfort of resting his head on the arm of the sofa. My other arm found its way around his waist, and then onto his chest as he pulled me closer, pretty much on top of him.

When we finally came up for air, I opened my eyes to a curtain of curls on either side of our faces, as though it was just me and him and the rest of the world fell away. He must have pulled out my hair tie too, but I only noticed the nimble fingers slipping through my hair, his left hand, still bandaged, though less stiff, clasped to the neck of my shirt.

“God, I love you,” I whispered, our lips still millimeters apart.

Alex looked up with a smirk, sweet and purged of any hurt that he had been fighting the past few days. “And I you. I don’t have a habit of typing up ten page reports with bandaged hands for random, average people, you know.”

He smiled sweetly and then knocked out my supporting arm so that I literally fell onto him, chest to chest, his hand leaving the collar of my shirt in favor of slipping around my waist. Burying his face in the crook of my neck, he murmured, “Your look of utter surprise was truly adorable.”

I propped myself up a little on my elbow to avoid crushing him and he actually rolled his eyes. “I can take it, but if you would prefer we do have the option of flipping, in light of the fact that I probably weigh less than you do.”

It was an obvious fact, Alex’s frame being determined to stay hunger panged thin, probably because of his bad habit of living off of coffee alone.

It took all of two seconds for Alex to end up on top, refusing to drop the elbow that propped him up. “I assure you, I’m perfectly comfortable this way, but you will not be if I-”

“What a hypocrite,” I snickered, leaning up into him, and then we were kissing again, our lips locked together like magnets that wouldn’t stop crashing together no matter how many times we pulled them apart for breath.

 

\---Alex’s POV---

My shirt ended up on a pile of textbooks that piled halfway up to the cushions of the couch, and as my fingers played delicately over John’s chest, his shirt bunching up as I made my way beneath it, I figured it might be a sensible idea to move.

“Perhaps it would be practical to relocate,” I suggested, trying not to sound breathless as his fingers tugged on my hair and traced my fading bruises so gently they tingles.

John flushed scarlet right to the belly button that his shirt had ridden up to, his freckles clearly sprinkled across more than just his face.

I laughed in spite of the knowledge that I was a similar shade of deep red, and leaned in for another kiss, only speaking after we had emptied our lungs of air. “We don’t have to do this now. We can go slower if you want.”

I was a mess, I was positive, but he was as well, though admittedly a far more attractive mess, with his gorgeous, shining chocolate curls spread haphazardly on the pillow, his shimmering green eyes widened with a want that made my heart reach unhealthy speeds. John’s skin was flushed warmly, his lips were parted with heavy breaths, plump from kissing.

I wanted him with a ferocity I had never felt before, as though my heart and soul had latched stubbornly onto him and to feel whole again we had to become one. Every minimal move carried out by any perfect part of him only made him more desirable. Nevertheless, I kissed his Adam’s apple with restraint I had previously believed myself to be incapable of. “We can go as slow as you wish.”

I knew John felt the same need I was immersed in, but I had better morals than to push forward simply because I could feel his want nudging my upper thigh.

John slipped gracelessly out from under me, nearly knocking over a pile of textbooks in his haste, grabbing my hand. “Nope, now is good.”

I grinned with my entire face, my whole body the brightest smile as we collided into a kiss, standing amongst a mess of papers in the living room before stumbling dazedly to the bed. “As you wish,” I consented eagerly, guiding his trail to the bed so he didn’t slip.

By the time we were laying on it, John under me once more, his shirt had joined the knick knacks on the floor and it was my turn to run my fingers over his skin and trace his bruises, watching his delicious shivers.

John’s face scrunched up into breathless laughter as he playfully shoved my shoulder. “Oh my god, Princess Bride?”

I sat up a little, acutely aware of his boner through his pants rubbing against my own, and I pretended to ease up a little.

That moment was fleeting because he promptly pulled me back down to meet his mouth, tongue and teeth, as our hips found their own rhythm. “We’ll just take it easy,” he murmured into my mouth.

I smiled into the kiss, my fingers fin ding the rough edges of his pants, going for one more quip before we slipped into bliss. 

I smirked. “As you wish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, as always, for reading!!!


	48. Raise a Glass to Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit complicated: Jeremy goes to the game, John toasts with MDR, Justin is sad.

\---Justin’s POV---

“Jeremy. Who are you?”

I looked up from my book, marking the page with my finger. The kid, perhaps a junior, did  _ not _ look like a drug dealer at all. Pale and gangly, with blue eyes and a mess of light brown hair, he looked more like a loser stranded at a party.

Jeremy, his name was. I extended my hand. “Justin.”

Actually, were real names a good idea? Maybe I shouldn’t have. I began to mentally scroll through the other Justins at my school, one by one, as the kid sat down next to me on the bench with an awkwardness that was obvious as his neon braces.

He slapped the had, curled his fingers, pulled out and went for a fist bump. I guessed hand shakes weren’t a typical high school football game greeting, and of course, I fumbled the fist bump thing.

He looked as though he was thinking, watching the empty field as the bleachers began to fill. It was a little less than half an hour before the game, the sun touching the swaying tops of the trees still standing around the campus.

“Are you supposed to be sitting here?”

I thought that might be an attempt at subtlety. I was equally unable to figure out the right way to communicate in a drug dealing situation. “Uh, yeah. I want to sit here. Or, well, I have to. Or-”

“You’re new to this, right? I mean, you don’t exactly seem…” Jeremy stopped there.

I tried not to show my nervousness, which was probably more apparent than I wanted it to be. “Sure of myself?”

His pale skin flushed apologetically. “I was going to say not exactly the type. Never seen someone with a notebook, pencil,  _ and  _ book to pick up pot.”

I didn’t have anything to say to that, so I pointedly put my pencil in my pocket, closed my notebook, bookmarked and closed my book, and watched the trees stand still.

“Sorry,” the guy half apologized with a shrug. “I’m a nerd too, I like to take it as a compliment. Actually,” he rambled awkwardly, “I think I’m more of a geek, but-”

“Yeah, I get it,” I interjected, just to have a little peace.

I guessed he was one of those people who just couldn’t stand silence, or at least certain types, because he asked, “So why do you want weed? I mean, to start now… and obviously you’ve never done it before…”

He seemed genuine enough, so I told him, “You know Naomi? She’s new this year, she’s a senior, she- well, I mean, she’s really nice and…”

Jeremy raised an eyebrow and I blushed as I almost said, “Hot.”

This whole time he had been kind of jittery, but now he seemed even more on edge. What did I say?

He ran a hand through his mess of hair. “Hey- Justin? Right?” I nodded. “Is her last name Rodriguez?”

I smiled widely. “Yeah, how’d you-”

“She’s a cop.” Jeremy looked guiltily around as if nervous someone heard him, but the bleachers around us were empty. 

What did  _ cop _ mean? Not, like, police, right? Probably some passing slang term or something, I figured.

Jeremy wasn’t looking at me, but when I looked at him directly, he avoided my eyes determinedly.

“Dude, I hate to break it to you like this, I mean, I’m not exactly the… best person at like, at…” Jeremy struggled to find the word, and I let him for a couple of seconds before I realized he wasn’t going to finish the sentence until he found the right word. 

“Tact?” I suggested with a raised eyebrow. 

Jeremy nodded slowly, like he had a vague idea that the word fell into the right field but he wasn’t really sure what it meant. “Basically, though, she’s, like, undercover or some shit. Apparently she’s looking for drug dealers and… well, yeah, just saying, you probably shouldn’t sell her that weed.:

I gaped.  _ What? _ Naomi- the undercover cop. He had to be high. Naomi’s gorgeous eyes blinked under thick lashes in my mind’s eye, her perfect skin glowing, her easygoing nonchalance that was so  _ mature _ for our age- but if she was a cop she would be older so that made-  _ no. _ She wasn’t. She wouldn’t.

I shot him a guarded, searching gaze, but he didn’t look high.

Jeremy tapped his temple. “I had a SQUIP… remember those? They didn’t want to be caught by cops, and they didn’t want  _ us _ to be caught by cops. So. They got a some into a few cops and the SQUIP told me all the undercover guys I needed to avoid. Or girls.”

I did remember the SQUIP incident, although it felt like I was in the background of a sci-fi book, since I didn’t experience any of it first hand. A bunch of kids suddenly morphed into social butterflies overnight.

“Hey, can I have her contact info?” the guy asked. “I have… I kinda need a friend on the force… or, well, my friend does?” It sounded like Jeremy was asking a question, even though it was grammatically a statement.

I wordlessly pulled up her number on my list of contacts and handed him my phone, the numbness seeping into me.  I could tell he wasn’t lying, or at least he believed what he was saying- I’d always been good at that and Jeremy seemed pretty easy to read. How I’d failed to read Naomi was beyond me/

Or, not really because I read somewhere that one bias can skew someone’s view of the world.

“Oh shit- don’t cry dude. She’s a monster, obviously.” Jeremy held out my phone and I took it back, trying to convince myself that the tremble in my fingers was the cold, not the ocean of heartbreak that crashed into me, wave after wave arcing over my head and throwing me to the ground mercilessly. 

I shook my head vigorously, feeling a warm tear hit my hand. “She’s not, she’s  _ not _ .”

 

\---Jeremy’s POV---

Poor guy. He was like a lost puppy whose family just kicked him out of the house.

Being me, of course, I stuttered out crap about my own life. “At least she’s not genuinely who you think she is and dating your ex-girlfriend.”

_ God. Seriously? _

Justin looked up at me with laughter that was slightly tinted with hysteria. “Your crush turned out to be lesbian?”

I turned my face away. “No…” I began to text Naomi instead of answering the next obvious questions.  _ Bi? Pan, then? Wait… are you gay? Bi then? _ To my surprise, she responded to my request almost instantly. Maybe because I started with  _ I know you’re a cop. _

“ _ I’ll read up, _ ” I muttered, copying her text, “ _ I’m sure I can get this through in a day or two… I’m good friends with the head of- _ ”

“So you’re bi?” 

I stared at the text that I sent to Micha, a direct copy of Naomi’s. “That was fast.”

Maybe he thought I wanted to talk (which I didn’t), or maybe he wanted a distraction. Whatever his reason, he cocked his head to one side. “Tell me about him.”

And maybe I was feeling bad for him, or maybe I wanted to talk about my past with Michael father than think of the present. Whatever my reason, somehow, I did.

 

\---Alex’s POV---

“Look!” John shoved his phone screen in my face with so much excitement, I couldn’t resist gazing at his joyful face for a moment before I actually read the lime green bubble from his younger brother.

“That’s amazing.” My grin matched John’s.

“I know!” He was practically bouncing about the room, clutching his phone like it was a winning lottery ticket.

I caught his hands, timidly kissing the smooth insides of his wrists before wrapping him in a hug, his body warm and accepting. “If everything goes well, Henry won’t be your problem in a day or two.”

I hoped that the request would truly be processed with the predicted punctuality. I tucked a curl that spilled from John’s ponytail behind his ear, smirking at how messily he’d redone it after I pulled it out. “Then you’re free to do whatever pleases you.”

John slipped a hand into the fridge and pulled out two Mountain Dew Reds. “This calls for a toast.”

I accepted one, wondering,  _ Why Mountain Dew Red of all things? _ “A toast?”

His arm found its way around my waist, and he clinked our cans together, the soda fizzing as they sloshed in t he can.

“Raise a glass to freedom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who is still reading with all my heart because this is probably the slowest burn you’ve ever read, and your patience, to stick it out to the end… I am amazed you were able to stomach my crap for this long, honestly.


	49. Boyf-riends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael finds out he's safe to be gay. Rainbows follow.

\---Michael’s POV---

“He could still get to John.”

“He barely has any time.”

“Barely any is still time-”

“Michael.” Brooke spoke in the petulantly stubborn tone that somehow called for silence. “You’re the younger one. John can take care of his own damn self and you know you want to do this. You don’t have to worry about your dad anymore! Embrace the gay.”

I threw a look at her, a glare to mask my laughter. “I will  _ not _ embrace anything that could get John hurt.”

Brooke groaned. “He doesn’t even know where John  _ is _ . I- didn’t you say you’ve done every freaking thing to make sure he has no clue what orphanage John’s at? You wouldn’t let me text the name, you wouldn’t look it up, you-” She waved her hands around. “God- do something for yourself for once!”

I stared at my hands, working my napkin to bits. “He doesn’t know where John is…” I repeated.

When she heard me give just a little, Brooke pounced. Clumsily. “Yes! No! He doesn’t!” Then her eyes lit up- she had an idea. Or she realized something. Either way, it was not good.

I waited.

“Jeremy’s getting you weed… Jeremy will be there!”

My eyes popped, I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. “Fuck no I will  _ not _ pull a cliché love confession.”

Brooke shook her head. “I would never ask you to. You’re above that. I’m just saying, he’ll be there for you. You always liked dramatic entrances.”

I bit my lip. “When’s the game?”

“Is that a yes?”

“When’s the game?”

“That’s a yes.”

 

\---Jeremy’s POV---

“Sounds like he really likes you.”

I stopped. “Uhh…. what?”

Justin laughed, watery and hollow, but a laugh as real as anything. “He likes you. Obviously. This Michael? He’s head over heels in love.”

I shook my head vigorously. “I- You don’t understand. Did you hear  _ anything _ I said?”

Justin shrugged as if it wasn’t important. “What about it?” He sat up a little as players filed onto the field.

I gaped at him openly. “He’s  _ dating _ my  _ ex-girlfriend! _ ”

“Well, you did say he’s pretending to be straight.”

“Oh.” Oh. I guessed that really did make sense. Wow.

Justin just chuckled, his eyes filling almost halfway with a smile.

A girl stepped onto the field, our school being too broke to afford any sort of platform for her to stand on. I stood up, the cool air playing lightly across my cheeks, hopefully lessening my blush. I could feel the warmth of that blush from head to toe.

Did he really not like Brooke? Maybe not right? I mean, he was  _ gay _ … I unraveled my hands as my nails bit into my skin. 

I still had no chance. Someone like  _ me? _

I tapped Justin’s elbow, more for a distraction than anything. “National anthem.”

He jumped up. “Oh-!”

Or- maybe he was purposefully sitting. “I mean, if you don’t want to stand, that’s fine- I totally support you on that, I was just saying, like,  _ hey, look, they’re doing the national anthem. _ ”

Justin’s smile got even closer to a full one, “I always stand for the national anthem. I want to work in the air force after I learn all my stuff.”

I nodded, wondering what to say next-  _ good luck? Don’t die? _ When he narrowed his eyes, drawing my attention back to the brightly lit field.

“Who’s that?” he wondered as a brightly colored figure jumped onto the stage. The volume rose in the stadium as other spectators wondered the same thing.

The girl on stage addressed us with a half laughing rift in her voice. “This gentleman has politely asked for the mic.”

The guy too the mic, holding it as though he’d never seen one before. Standing still, I could see he was a rainbow. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple from head to toe.

“Hey fam!” A cheery voice rang out, and I felt my existence explode into fireworks as I instantly recognised the voice. “My name is Michael Mell.”

Justin’s eyes whipped to me in shock, and I could only muster the tiniest of nods. My face broke out into a grin, disbelieving, astonished, absolutely in awe. What the fuck, Michael.

“My dad’s a homophobic bitch. Today I found out he will soon not be a problem for me or my brother, which is fucking rad.”

I was grinning so hard it hurt, beautiful gorgeous Micha in a fucking  _ rainbow. _ Of fucking course he would.

“So, I just wanted to let you all know,” Micha continued, confidence and joy swooping out of him and blanketing the crowds, “I’m gay.” The stadium exploded.

He tossed the mic back.  _ Tossed _ it. And walked off the stage. Always loved an entrance. Always loved and exit.

I let out a bubbling laughter of disbelief and pure light. “Well shit.”

The guy next to me smirked. “You can say that again.”

I shoved the money at him. “Fucking finally.” I needed to get out of there, to chase down Michael and… do  _ something _ . I wouldn’t kiss him. That would be mortifying. But there was too much going on for me to do  _ nothing. _

I was already backing out. The guy tossed me a baggie with some little green nuggets, and then I was running.

 

\---Michael’s POV---

“Fuck yeah!” I yelled as I reached the edge of the plastic grass, meeting Brooke’s high five with a fist bump because why not.

“Lit,” she replied, laughing. “Love that.”

My grin could have split my face in half. I could have outshone the white football field lights with rainbow disco from in me if I let it loose. “Fucking radical, girl.”

Brooke held up her pink encased phone, matching the candy shade of her nails. “Am I allowed to post it?”

I loved that she asked. There were probably already a million posts swarming the internet from everyone else who’d thought to video tape it. They thought the fact that they took the video justified putting it out, which was  _ not _ the case, but ok. I shrugged. “Go ahead.”

“There’ll be hate.” Brooke ran a hand through her hair, tugging the ends in frustration. “There’s always hate.”

I knew. Of course I knew. I lived with my dad’s reminders for only a few days, but I’d never forget the years I’d witnessed John’s suffering. I could bow down, scuttle out, hide away. Or I could not. “This is me,” I replied.

“Michael-!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I grabbed her phone and posted for her. “I can handle it. There’s never been a better time in history to be a loser. I might as well own it.”

“Michael!” I’d recognise that voice if I was a million meters under water. 

“Jeremy!” I didn’t know why I was suddenly breathless. He looked like he always did except more vibrant. Gorgeous. Haphazard in the most adorable way. Spilling with a torrent of confusing emotions.

He was running towards me.

“I’ll leave you to it!” Brooke winked at me and I flushed crimson.

“Michael!” Jeremy spluttered again, pulling to a stop just short of where I was standing. That was disappointing. I kind of wished he’d barrel into me. “You- you- holy shit dude.”

I couldn’t really find words either, plus it was unbearably cute when he was flustered, so I just pulled a half smirk. “I…?”

Jeremy looked me up and down, his mouth opening and closing and oh my god I wanted to kiss him. 

“You…” he started. “Aww, fuck it.”

And then he was kissing me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did you like that chapter? Again, it helps to know what you liked and didn’t like so I can fix that in later chapters.


	50. For Forever Reprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Alex return to the orchard, somewhat replaying that day they went there, way back when they just met. The even get icecream!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just thought we needed some more Lams fluff, now that they're together, and I'm sprinkling so much of the other side characters in. Enjoy!

\---Alex’s POV---

Yesterday John and I messed around before sundown, promptly resolving to become a couple. It was only a couple days ago that we discovered our feelings were mutual(!) and we were clearly  _ not _ taking it as slowly as we agreed.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I’ll see you at lunch?” John’s eyes sparkled like dewy grass, his hair up in a ponytail as always.

I couldn’t help but smile. “Undoubtedly. Would you enjoy a quick escape to the orchard?”

People occasionally say that a genuine smile will reach your eyes, but John smiled in a way that reached his whole body. His smile miraculously met his feet. “I would love that.”

I smirked, fully warm without a trace of malice. “As you wish.”

John blushed down the all too high collar of his shirt, the adorable freckles that I’d kissed one by one drowning in deep pink.

How could I possibly resist? I caught his hands as he swung them, gently backing him up against the wall. He pulled one hand out, my fingers already missing the warmth, and settled it on the back of my neck, pulling me closer, bridging the gap between our lips impatiently. His lips, soft and smooth, met mine gently, but he soon slipped his tongue across my bottom lip.

Often, gentle beginnings fail to remain gentle for long, and I was less than eager to attempt to maintain the gentle nature of our kiss.

He tasted slightly like eggs that he’d cooked for us this morning, under the fresh mint of toothpaste. John had turned out to be a naturally gifted chef, something I’d prophesied might be the case an instant after I’d tried his chicken and bread salad. The faintest traces of coffee, too, I could detect as our tongues twisted eagerly.

I was kissing John. He was kissing me back. John with his freckles and his warm, swelling laugh and a soul as pure as sunlight.

“Uhhh… guys?” came a flat voice, tinted with amused sarcasm.  _ Jared. _

Another voice popped in, one that I never expected. “Shut up. Jeez. Let them kiss.”  _ Connor!? _

I had not intentions of uttering a complaint. 

 

\---John’s POV---

“We should teach,” I murmured reluctantly against Alex’s mildly chapped lips, letting my hand drop from where it had been twisting his hair at the nape of his neck. He tasted like coffee.

Alex’s hands slipped reluctantly from my waist and chest, his heavy breathing tickled my neck as he ducked his head. “That’ll be fun.” His face hinted at a wry smile as he looked at the door that stood behind him.

Somehow, Connor had managed to usher them all to their seats. Probably by intimidating them. He was pretty scary.

“Lunch,” Alex agreed softly, placing a kiss on my neck.

I shivered as he stepped away. “See you then.”

I ducked into the classroom, his longing gaze tickling between my shoulder blades, warming me from the inside out.

**~~~**

I shot Alex a hopeful glance as we walked out to the car, the electric blue seeming to almost shimmer under the sun.

He laughed. “Yes, you can drive. I must get an additional set of keys so you can have your own.”

I beamed in response, sliding into the driver’s seat, and laughed.

“I’m serious! You love this car far more than I do.” Alex tossed me the keys and I nearly dropped them when he added, “Crépes?” Alex lifted the tray, and I jumped up to take it from him, worried that it might fall out of his still stiff hands. 

I insisted on opening the door for him as well, and Alex smirked. “You could have opened the door  _ before _ entering the car.” He smiled as I hit the windshield wipers, swiping the sparkling droplets of last night’s light drizzle from the window. “It would have been far more convenient for you. And for now, take my key. You can have it until I get another.”

My jaw dropped. “Oh, no no no no, I couldn’t.”

Alex pecked my cheek and I blushed. “Why not?”

I began pulling the car into drive, and sighed at the smooth whirr. “... are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Alex…” I whispered wonderingly.

“I love you too.”

I spluttered, blurting, “I love you!”

He rolled his eyes playfully, but his blush deepened.

I glanced back at the winding country road just in time to pull to a stop for a light. God, I needed to focus on  _ driving _ , not the way a few locks of hair fell from his ponytail and swept behind his ears. Or how his chocolate sparkled with wit that lit his face with joy that was so relieving to see after the days he’d spent in the hospital. Or his elegant, nimble fingers still mindlessly toying with a pencil despite half of them being wrapped up in white, gauzy cloth. Or the arc of pale skin that showed between the half sleeves of the shirt under his T-shirt and the fabric around his forearms.

I glanced up at his perfect lips just in time for him to capture mine in a sweet, chaste kiss.

“You were staring.” 

I quickly looked back to the road. The light had been green for… I didn’t know how long. I sighed and returned my attention to the drive.

One short stretch of road, one wallet reenactment, the purchase of two ice creams and the consumption of two crépes later, we lay on the ground, staring up at the green leaf framed blue sky, fluffy clouds drifting leisurely around. 

“We should eat the ice cream.” It was probably going to melt soon, even though we were in the shade. Or, the hands holding the cones were. Aka my hands because I didn’t trust Alex not to drop them.

“Absolutely.” Alex sat up and leaned against a nearby tree, gesturing for me to join him. “Wait… you’re not going to let me hold it, are you?”

I hadn’t thought that far. How was he going to eat it? “I’ll hold it for you,” I offered.

I held out his cone, and he put his rough hand over mine, the cloth rubbing against my hand, to steady my hold as he ate his ice cream. It was awkward and a little difficult, but Alex, being Alex, somehow managed it. In any case, it was unbearably adorable.

I laughed something close to a giggle when the light brown ice cream found its way onto his nots. “That’s adorable,” I told him honestly, as he laughingly tried to lick it off his nose.

“Rudolf the brown nosed nerd.” Alex popped the end of his cone into his mouth.

Feeling the blush blooming on my cheeks, I leaned over and licked the splotch off his nose. “Coffee,” I murmured, still right next to him “Never been a fan of coffee ice cream, as much as I love coffee, but A-La-Mode’s is good.”

“You want some more?”

I quirked a lazy eyebrow as I leaned my head on his shoulder and kissed his jawline. “You finished it.”

Alex just smiled and turned, meeting my lips and parting his just a little. An invitation.

He tasted like coffee.

Or, he tasted like coffee ice cream. My new favorite flavor.

 

\---Alex’s POV---

I ran my fingers through his soft, glossy curls, feeling them spring and bounce as I systematically worked the small tangles out.

My head rested softly on his chest and I could feel it rising and falling as John breathed in and out. It felt like an anchor.

“We should get back soon,” I heard him note, feeling the words as he spoke them. He stopped absently running his fingers over my bandages and ran them through my hair instead, loose after having been pulled out of the ponytail I kept it in. “I wish we didn’t have to.”

I raised myself up so I was gazing down upon him as opposed to resting my cheek on his chest. Ducking to give him a gentle kiss before fumblingly lying next to him on the ground, I murmured, “Me too.”

I watched him affectionately as he gazed at the sky thoughtfully. Reflectively. 

“All we see is sky, for forever. We let the world pass by, for forever.” John spoke as though reciting something, each word falling from the perfect, exquisite curve of his lips with rhythm and certainty. His soft, arching eyebrows furrowed nearly imperceptibly as he contemplated the sky. 

It took me all of a second to recall myself confiding in him that I enjoyed this place because of that. Because I could see the sky for forever. Because I could let go of a fast life of hard work for a few seconds and just think and think or not think at all.

I smiled, watching his Adam’s apple bob as I planted a butterfly-light kiss of his freckle-dusted cheek. “Feels like we could go on for forever this way.”

John slipped his warm, protecting arm around my shoulders and tugged me closer, as near to hugging as two people l ying on the ground could be without being on top of each other.

“Two boyfriends, on a perfect day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that was nice fluff because I suck at anything substantial. I can only do stalling and dancing around a subject, not write actual stuff happening.


	51. Sally and Peggy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy tries to talk things out. Sally's ready to bolt for the sake of Peggy's safety.

\---Peggy’s POV---

I hadn’t gone to the coffee shop for nearly a day and a half, and even though it was a joke when John mentioned it, I did pretty much live in that corner. Jesus, my flirty self never did learn to shut up. I felt like an idiot and an asshole and such an  _ idiot. _

Couldn’t I have just left Sally alone? Did I have to flirt with her? She probably thought I was playing with her or mocking her or- or- something!

After her whole ordeal with Jeffershit, I should have known better than to expect her to just accept a happily ever after. Or to be so naive as to expect one.

Especially with a flirt like me.

But how I not flirt with her? Sally and her soft voice, her quiet knowledge, endlessly working and helping and thinking about other people- not even think about herself at all- and pulling her hair behind her shoulders instinctively, then instinctively letting it fall back to cover her face like a shield. Sally with her shy smiles that shone like a diamond in the rough, Sally who’s eyes rendered me helpless the moment she finally worked up the courage to let them meet my own. Sally, Sally, Sally.

How could she  _ not _ know that I wasn’t toying with her, that I  _ liked  _ her?

I needed coffee. Also, I needed to see Sally, and this was one of her volunteer shifts. Not that I’d, like, totally memorized her shift schedule or anything, I just like to study in the coffee shop. Because it smelled like (and also because Sally was there). In any case, I was going to get coffee. I was Sally-starved and decaffeinated. My need kept going in circles. Sally, Sally.

Warm, bright smile. Braids spilling over her shoulder. Sally, Sally, Sally. Talking to people with undivided attention, like you were the only person that matters in that moment. Hiding, running from Jeffershit. Breaking his knee. Sally, Sally- “Sally!”

It flew out of my mouth like a free bird the moment I spotted her behind the counter. ‘Liza looked up and waved joyfully at me. 

“Haven’t seen you in a while have we?” she asked rhetorically, her hand already darting around to prepare my usual cup.

Sally wordlessly helped her, determinedly at her hands. Her hair swung in front of her face, but her hand paused when it moved to pull her hair back, then went back to work, leaving the curtain there. Shields were up. Oh Sally.

Realizing I hadn’t said anything, I offered an over-sassed, “Miss me already?” in response to ‘Liza. Somehow, I ended up saying it to Sally instead.

Her hands stilled, shaking a little over the sugar, and then she muttered something quickly to ‘Liza and darted into the back rooms.

“Sally-” I started helplessly, but I doubted she heard me.

Eliza’s mouth opened in surprise that I could tell was mostly fake. “Why- Peggy- Margarita Schuyler, do you have a crush?” 

I couldn’t take her playful teasing, or her fake surprise, or the delicious smell of hot coffee that she held out to me. I tore my eyes from the doorway in the back to the back room to look at ‘Liza.

When she caught my eyes, she dropped all pretenses. And her voice. “Good god, Peggy, what did you do?”

I let out something pitifully close to whimper. “I flirted too much.”

“You look miserable.” ‘Liza didn’t mock me, instead gesturing behind her. “Fix this, Peggy. I hate it when either of you is sad, but both is more than I can handle.”

I smile my thanks.

“Sally?”

I heard something topple in one of the rooms, and quickly made my way to doorway.

“Hey.” I offered hopefully, talking to the box above her shoulder.

She didn’t turn around. Sally stood so still, her braids didn’t shift an inch, as though she thought I wouldn’t see her if she didn’t move. She didn’t know she was literally all I saw, even when I closed my eyes.

I didn’t know what to say next, so I opened my mouth to let whatever came out come out. I only knew one thing: I. Would. Not. Flirt.

No matter what.

“I can’t see your gorgeous face if you refuse look at me.”

Fuck.

\---Sally POV---

_ Gorgeous _ . The use of that word felt like mockery after it slipped from my mind in that one reckless moment.

Lord, I would  _ never _ be reckless again. I’d been reckless with Jefferson, and now with  _ Peggy _ -

“You don’t need to.” I prided myself in managing to keep my voice steady. I still didn’t know what to do except stare motionlessly at the shelves, but it was better than nothing.

“Sally please?” I had never heard Peggy speak that gently to anyone, but rather than feel honored, I was a little put out.

Too fragile for regular speech?  _ I’m not a frightened colt. _ I picked up a box of coffee beans and began looking through the bags in the box.  _ I’m not an object to play with _ .

And then Peggy was standing standing in front of me, the box was set firmly back on the shelf, and Peggy was hold both of my hands.

She held up my hands and looked right at me as she wound her fingers around my own. I wanted to yank my hands back, to grab the box again and storm dramatically out the room, but Peggy was always the dramatic one and her hands felt so  _ right _ in mine. But no, I couldn’t think like that. If Jefferson…

I shook my head insistently, letting my braids swing back into a curtain. Peggy pulled her hand away and moved my hair back behind my shoulders, her warm fingertip brushing the back of my neck. Sparks lit my skin where her fingers met.

Full lips forming an exaggerated pout, Peggy stared at me as if to say  _ hello! I’m here? _

I fought a smile that tried to form on my lips. Back to her normal, not-pleading self, which I much preferred. I noticed her hand hadn’t left the back of my neck and I stepped back quickly. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.

“Stop hiding from me!” Peggy exclaimed, jumping back into my line of vision as I turned away. “Can we talk? Jeez, it’s like I’m Medusa or something!”  _ Lord. _

I threw my hands up. “What is there to talk about? Lord, Peggy, do you know how bad I felt when he beat you up?”

Peggy fell silent, frozen. “Sally…” she reached out to lay a hand on my shoulders. “Oh, come on, it wasn’t your fault. It was that motherfucker-”

“Just flirt with someone else, okay?” I burst out before I could stop myself. I literally clapped my hands to my mouth, but it was too late. I sighed. “He’ll hurt you.” My voice was small and timid.

“Jeez, Sally, you’re blind.” I turned towards Peggy’s voice to find her hands on my shoulders. “I don’t want to flirt with anyone else! I like  _ you _ .”

Oh. “Oh.” I said.

I didn’t know what else to say.  _ I like you too _ ?

Peggy rolled her eyes. “I don’t- it doesn’t matter whether you like me back. I guess. This isn’t about  _ us _ . I mean, it is, but-”

I stared at her in confusion. “What?”

“Well,” Peggy began slowly. Then she burst out like she couldn’t take it anymore. “This is exactly that Jeffershit wants! You got away from him so he wants to make your life miserable! If you don’t even let yourself have fun because you’re scared-!” She waved her hands in frustration.

I thought about that for a minute as I wove my fingers through my hair nervously. Peggy looked at me expectantly, not exactly patient, but for her it was pretty impressive.

If I let Jeffershit hover over me like a cloud, darkening my whole world, he already won. “He might hurt you.”

“That’s all you’re worried about?” Peggy stepped over, her fingertips sending sparks up my back as they came to rest lightly on my hip. I couldn’t bring myself to pull away, too focused on the lips that were suddenly less than a foot away.  _ And  _ it was clear she was making an effort to respect my personal space. 

I shook myself out of my staring. “If he hurt-”

“Can I kiss you?”

“No!” I all but yelled.  _ Yes! _ My mind screamed. “You’re not hearing me at all!”

Peggy’s other hand found the base of my neck and it became a real possibility that I might swoon into her arms. “Let me rephrase that. Do you want me to kiss- Oh for Pete’s sake, Sally, look at me! Do you want me to kiss you?”

And when I met her eyes I couldn’t say no.

First it was because I  _ did  _ w ant her to kiss me and if I looked her in the eyes and lied, I knew she would know. 

And then it was she was gently kissing  _ me _ and I never wanted it to end and I was kissing her back and if I pulled away it would be painfully obvious that  _ no _ was a lie and anyway I didn’t want to pull away.

So I didn’t.


	52. Another Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James runs into King and his crew as he's walking home, but this time he doesn't get away. Thomas, right across the street, sees this from his window. WARNING FOR VIOLENCE AND SLURS

\---James’ POV---

Yesterday King almost managed to corner me when I narrowly escaped into my apartment. This time I knew it would be different because I wasn’t nearly close enough to dart through the door. And instead of behind me, King was between me and the apartment.

Also, Charles and Samuel were there as well. Cowardly much? At least Jefferson wasn’t with them I let a mild vine of happiness grow twistingly through my heart at the fact that he’d passed on beating my ass.

Samuel gave me a cruel smile that he never would have had the bravery to pull off if he wasn’t half a step behind King.

King, though, pulled his confidence solely from himself. Of from his record of pretty much never losing a fight, even though he picked so many. 

Except for that one time Jefferson and King fought… Jefferson won. I didn’t remember what it was about, except that I didn’t care because it was stupid.

“Too bad T couldn’t join us,” Samuel lamented gleefully. “He would have loved the terror on your face.”

I tried to decide whether to set my jaw- if I gave signs of resistance, they’d only beat me up harder. There was no way I could successfully fight three people who fought pretty much all the time.

On the other hand, was I really just going to crumple at their feet?

I set my jaw.

King sighed in a way that made it clear he was neither disappointed or tired. “Oh well, too bad. Fuck him and his fever, now let’s get on with it.”

_ Fever _ . Of fucking course. Jeffershit didn’t  _ care _ about me, he cared about the shame of these three finding out he had a broken leg.

It was surprising how much the realization hurt. I thought I was on the road to getting over him.

But if I was honest, it was nothing on the punches that came next.

 

\---Thomas POV---

Yesterday Jemmy almost caught me watching him from my window. I don’t think he felt me though, because the set of his shoulders hadn’t been tense. He just… looked up. As if he was thinking about me.

I wondered pitifully if maybe, possibly, his thoughts weren’t taking my name and dragging it through the mud. I didn’t think I could bear it if that’s what he thought of me- but I knew it most definitely was. How could he not?

But even so, I still sat in my chair, watching people pass, waiting by the window.

I hoped to stay hidden most of the day, or at least from the trio, but I knew I’d see them coming soon enough to get into bed and cover my leg if they did come to visit, which I knew they wouldn’t.

It was so  _ empty _ without Jemmy. Not like the life had gone out of the room, really, but like the  _ sun _ had. The house felt so big, and I felt so small.

_ Shit _ . There were three swaggering figures waiting past Jemmy’s house- I’d know them anywhere. I was just about to duck away from the window so they wouldn’t spot me when they stopped.

Just in front of Jemmy’s house. Their intentions couldn’t have been more obvious if they’d brought giant signs and wrote  _ here to beat up f*gs _ on them, then proceeded to parade them about, screaming slurs at the top of their lungs.

Which, for some reason, hurt for me to picture.

The scene before me hurt more, though. They were waiting for Jemmy, and when he got there… I couldn’t let that happen. I  _ couldn’t _ . I’d do anything to stop ot.

Standing up and grabbing my crutches, I headed for the door.

My heart shattered when I finally made it onto the street, the rough, loose rocks on parts of the road making it hard for my crutches to find steady purchase. Jemmy was on the ground, his teeth were gritted as though in searing pain- which he probably ways- and my heart broke even more when the first thing I thought was that this was exactly how Alex had looked that day.

When I all but bolted down the stairs to the street, I had taken the stairs by twos even though the crutches obviously made the speed a dangerous one.  _ To hell with it. _ I had planned to give myself a few seconds for the mortification of hobbling into a fight with a broken knee to defend my…

...Crush…

...But when I was the three motherfucking assholes beating Jemmy up, even as he lay helplessly on the pavement, I didn’t have a second of hesitation in me.

I threw myself across the street as fast as my crutches could take me, barely noticing the way the rocks shifted dangerously under the small, ridiculously narrow ends.

They hadn’t seen me yet. Charles was snarling, “You’re a freak.” I would bash his brains in.

King was standing back with the air of someone too dignified to bend over, even to beat someone. “Just admit it. Say that being a f*g is being a freak and we’ll let you go.” It was clear from his tone that he’d been offering this escape for a while. I felt a sharp pride at Jemmy’s refusal.

I always struggled to maintain my pride when Jemmy seemed to only have polite concern for what other people saw, so I thought he just needed more to be proud of. Now I wondered if he had more to be proud of than me.

And then I cursed myself for wondering because obviously he did.

King continued as Samuel kicked Jemmy in the ribs. “All you gotta do is just-”

And that’s when my crutch me the back of his head with a loud, harsh sound and a crazed yell of pain as he fell forward forcefully. 

Samuel turned around, fury in his eyes and I had to put down my crutch to keep from teetering after the force of the his knocked my balance off kilter.

Charles gaped. “T? You have a broken-?” There was a crutch shoved in his stomach before he finished the sentence.

I growled. “Leave Jemmy alone!”

\---James’ POV---

For the first half of the fight, I couldn’t even process what was happening because I was still struggling to realize that  _ Jefferson _ was overcoming his insufferably unconquerable pride to defend  _ me _ in what I figured could only be a losing fight.

He called me  _ Jemmy _ . In front of  _ them _ . It was the first time he’d ever called me anything other than  _ James _ or  _ Madison _ in front of anyone other than me. And it was clearly deliberate because he’d looked right into my eyes as he said it.

Or, at least the eye that could still open.

His eyes were full of emotion so strong it spilled into the air around him, almost as if I could feel it. His untamed anger.  _ Protectiveness _ . Most of all-  _ regret _ .

I didn’t know what he wanted, I didn’t know what he was trying to do. But right now, what he was doing-  _ for me _ \- was enough.

After the first half of the fight, I realized he must’ve been a superhero of some sort because he was absolutely magical with those crutches. Even confined to the worst balance and a single leg, Thomas was fighting like I’d never seen him fight before. 

He was a tornado, an avalanche. A hurricane.

As always, he fought not with technique or strategy, but with pure force and fury that was a terror to behold but for me it was a miracle. A light. A rainbow.

I had never seen him so mad in my life. Neither had I seen anyone look so scared- Charles and Samuel looked on the verge of wetting their pants. Even King looked reluctantly intimidated.

When the trio began to stop meeting Thomas’ attacks with counterstrikes of their own, Thomas drew back. This was a first.

“Get the fuck out of my goddamn neighborhood.”

Thomas’ voice contained barely suppressed fury. I couldn’t believe he was restraining himself. I had been afraid he’d beat them all unconscious before he stopped.

A rare glow of pride cast a light in my body. He’d changed. He still had a million flaws, but he was  _ trying _ . That was more than I ever thought I would be able to say.

“Where the fuck are you going?” King yelled as Charles and Samuel beat a hasty retreat.

“How can I keep leading when my people keep retreating?” King’s furious mutter was the last we heard from him when he chased them down the street.

I stood up- shaky and hurt but relatively healthy- and stumbled only far enough to sit on the steps to my apartment. “Thank you,” I managed to get out through my bruised mouth. I got ready to stumble up the steps.

“Jemmy.” I heard the telltale  _ click _ of crutches approaching, and from his voice alone it sounded like pleading. Even though he’d just won, it sounded like defeat.

I was as still as a statue because I didn’t know what to do, and I was done doing things. If Thomas wanted something from me, he had to go get it himself.

Thomas clicked up the steps until he was at my front door and offered me a hand up. I stared at it. It trembled. I looked up at Thomas’ face and understood that even though I was sitting and he stood above me, even though  _ he _ was helping _ me _ up, be was very much begging me.

Thomas took an audible breath and met my eyes. He didn’t dare move. He didn’t dare ask, or speak. He didn’t even look like he was breathing.

I took his hand. Thomas’ eyes widened and he let out the softest of gasps- it was actually really cute- and held tight like he was afraid I’d fall. Or that I would let go. 

He pulled me up and guided me to the door, steady. Strong.

I had always welcomed him in, but I didn’t think we were quite there anymore. Or yet. 

He stopped at the door, looking as though he’d love nothing more than to deserve to come in.

The hard truth we both knew was that he couldn’t. Not right now.

“Jemmy,” he began, his voice raw. I looked up at him and waited. I was ready for whatever  _ best friend _ excuse he would throw at me. The bullshit shield was up. I could take it. Thomas stared at the wooden floor, one shoulder on the doorframe and a crutch tucked under the other. “I know the last thing I deserve is another shot, but…”

What? I didn’t understand what was going on. When he said nothing else, staring at the floor like it had taken his voice, I prompted, “Just- say what’s on your mind, Thomas.”

\---Thomas’ POV---

What was on my mind? Three fundamental truths at the exact same time.

Number one: Jemmy had taken my hand and let me help him and even said  _ thank you _ after everything I’d done.

Number two: I would never  _ ever _ deserve Jemmy, to be with someone so forgiving and so ready to believe in the good of someone. All those chances I’d thrown away over the years… I  _ didn’t _ deserve another one. I could barely believe I had the nerve to ask for one.

I didn’t say these. Instead, I asked, my heart racing, “Lunch? Just the two of us?”  _ As if there’d be anyone else. _

I could hear Jemmy’s surprise, as light and thick as wool. “Only us?”

It had always only been us, but I’d never said it before, and I could tell he was wondering why I was now.

I nodded, looked up, and quickly looked down. I didn’t want to see his face when he said  _ no _ . I didn’t want  _ him _ to see  _ my _ face when he said no. Tears threatened to flow, and I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood.

“Okay,” he murmured softly.

I nearly fainted for shock and joy. My head shot up and I stopped glaring at the floor. “Okay?”

Jemmy almost smiled and it was like the sun had risen in Antarctica. “Okay.”

I nodded, grabbed my other crutch, and  _ clicked _ down the steps. Despite the weight of my cast, I felt lighter than ever before.

Number three: All this time, I’d wa nted him. All this time, a part of me knew that. But through all that time, I failed to realize, even in the back of my mind, that  _ I want him to be mine  _ wasn’t the end of it. There was more. 

_ I want to be his. _


	53. Hamisquad Hangs Out (Reprise)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The squad hangs out yet again, this time with more blushes and more teasing, and just a tidbit of breaking news. Cuteness and cuddles all around!

\---John’s POV---

“So, you and Alex, eh?” Lafayette’s distinctive accent broke through my daydreams, mostly involving kisses and Alex, Alex, Alex.

I ducked my head sheepishly, feeling heat creep up onto my cheeks even though I couldn’t stop a wide grin from spreading across my face. “Yeah.”

Hercules came up behind him, a hand coming to rest not-so-subtly on Lafayette’s ass and I remembered that there was no way they were judging me for being gay because that would be insanely hypocritical.

“If you hurt him…” Angelica warned from behind me, leaving the rest of the sentence to my imagination. I imagined something like what happened to Jefferson- that was  _ not _ pretty.

I nearly broke at the idea of hurting Alex. At all. Ever. In any way. “I won’t,” I blurted quickly. “If I do I swear you can kill me.” I meant that.

We were walking towards the café where we always hung out and Alex popped out from his classroom as we passed.

“No one is killing anyone else.  _ Especially _ John. Nobody touches John.” I blushed and giggled like a schoolgirl as he slipped his arm around my waist and gave me the softest kiss on my jaw.

Angelica shrugged at Alex as Hercules clarified, “We were talking about if he hurts you.”

Lafayette added, “As friends, it would be our job to avenge you.” Alex laughed at their casual-dramatic assurances and pulled me closer to him. My arm looped around his shoulders, my hand resting on his bicep.

“If John hurts me, I will thank him for giving me the happiest days of my life before… whatever.”

I pulled him around to me, kissing him deeply. My entire body was swooning at how utterly sweet that was, cheesy or not.

“You two are too much,” Angelica laughed. “You do realize your students are watching you.”

I didn’t care, I wanted to keep kissing Alex forever, feeling his hands grip my waist just a little tighter as I traced his shoulder blades through his shirt.

“Jared is… how you say… fangirling.” Lafayette observed with an amused chuckle.

I pulled away gently, a light laugh bubbling in my throat as I felt Alex do the same. Obviously, we both felt we needed to see this.

Jared was jumping up and down, squealing things that I couldn’t understand because his voice was so high. When Evan noticed us watching, he quickly ducked his head, grabbed Jared’s hand and tugged it nervously. Jared shrugged and looked back at us like he didn’t give a damn that he was staring. He probably didn’t.

Then he looked down at his and Evan’s hands.

Alex laughed outright at the blush and bashful smirk that Jared developed, but I was looking over at the cafeteria, where Mr. Heere was giving me an exaggerated wink as though he was a protective father of sorts.

Actually, I wouldn’t mind that.

“Come on,” Angelica urged playfully, “Let’s go.”

So we do.

 

\---Alex’s POV---

I loved this. Having John’s arm around me, spewing cheesy romantic declarations, walking and talking with my friends, seeing my students happy for me, breathing in the fresh, clean air, being  _ alive _ . I never thought I’d feel that way, not a hundred percent, but I was beginning to consider it a tangible possibility, hovering right there. It was but a few steps away. I would get there.

Someday, someday.

Herc made a strangled growling sound in his throat, and I followed his gaze across the street. 

Jeffershit.

But today he wasn’t glaring at me like I was the end of the world- he was looking at James. Not with want and possessiveness that he used to. Instead, he gazed at James with admiration and wistfulness. 

He almost appeared self-depreciating.

John began to slip out from my arm, making to cross the street, but I grabbed his hand and did something I never thought I would. “Leave it alone,” I murmured. Laf, Herc, Angie, and John stared at me as if I’d gone crazy.

“...The fuck?” Laf eyed me as though I had spoken with incorrect grammar.

They needed convincing. “Look at James,” I offered, “he isn’t following Jefferson like a lovesick puppy anymore- if anything, he has more leverage in their friendship than Jefferson does, and we all know James. We’ve all seen him change and get smarter with what he chooses to do in the last few days. He wouldn’t be doing anything with Jefferson unless Jefferson really changed or is truly attempting to do so. James is past that, right?”

“Oh, thank god,” Angie remarked with mock relief. “I thought you lost touch with your mile-long explanations for a few days there.”

I laughed and gave Angie a playful shove as we stepped into the coffee shop.

“You ain’t got no skills!” I nearly yelled, feeling too happy to just talk as John slipped back into my arm and pressed a kiss to my temple.

“Alex!” Peggy, Maria, and Eliza screeched together. I gazed at them in confusion as they began talking over each other. I couldn’t catch a word of what they were saying.

I scanned the shop and caught Sally’s eye. She shrugged.

“Peggy-!”

“They’re-!”

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, ok, so-”

“No one else was in the room where it happened, but-”

Sally spoke up and the three girls fell silent. “Peggy and I are…” she cast a shy glance at Peggy, and my jaw dropped. “Dating.”

“Oh my god!” Laf practically squealed.

John was gaping beside me and I had to snicker, “Close your mouth, John, we are not a codfish.” The entire coffee shop groaned.

“Mary Poppins, Alex?” Maria smirked.

I shrugged defensively. “It’s a classic! And anyway, you all know I quote classic movies periodically, so you shouldn’t be surprised.”

“He does,” John blurted, before turning bright red and burying his face in my neck.

Everyone else just stared, puzzled expressions on their faces.

I let my fingers tap lightly on his ass, and since his ear was already only a couple inches from my mouth, I leaned over just a little and whispered, “As you wish.”

John uttered the most shrill shrill squeak I had ever heard, and gave my neck an open mouthed kiss in retaliation. It worked, since I gave an involuntary shiver and blushed hard enough to easily compete with John’s.

“Jeez, guys, take your porn show somewhere else,” Eliza reprimanded, ever the innocent one.

John pulled back and I pouted, a counter argument already gathering on the tip of my tongue. “If I do recall, Laf and Herc were even worse when they initially became a couple, seeing as they spent half their time together feeling each other up in public. Besides, it isn’t as though you and Maria are any better, right?” Eliza opened her mouth to protest, and I added quickly, “Taking into account the fact that I only spent two hours a day  _ average _ in this shop and you guys make out at least three times everyday  _ during the time I’m here _ , you can’t possibly be better than us. After all, John and I spend our work hours is separate classrooms.”

Laf snorted. “Except for when you make out in the hallway.”

John spluttered, “You saw?”

I protested at the same time, “That was  _ once _ !”

Angie shot herc and Laf a pointed look. “At least John and Alex don’t have people sleeping next door to their dorm.”

John gaped, covering his face with his hands. “O h my god.”

I reckoned he’d easily compete with Eliza’s spot as most innocent.

I nudged him suggestively. “Yeah, definitely a good thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so, so close to the end, guys. Just four more chapters- that's insane! I cannot believe I am so close to finishing publishing the first ever fanfiction I began, and I'm mindblown by how many people actually chose to read it.


	54. When the Sun goes Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short, sweet, gay chapter for only our two favorite gay children. Mostly just cute.

\---John’s POV---

As people began to leave and the sun started to set, my phone vibrated, and I pulled it out, smiling as Alex did the same.

“Please come to the office when you have the time,” Alex and I read in unison. “Bring Alex,” I read, just as Alex read:

“Bring John.”

I took his hand and pulled him towards the door, waving goodbye to Maria and Eliza as the bell signalled our exit.

“I wonder what it is,” Alex remarked as his fingers tapped gently over my knuckles. The bandages had almost been removed, the layers much thinner. Still rough, but I didn’t mind. I hummed in response, watching the sun touch the treetops, casting rich colors across the sky. Oranges, yellows, pinks, blues.

The colors cast a soft glow on Alex, the light playing over his cheekbones, alighting on stray strands of hair, emphasising the shine of his eyes and the black of his eyelashes.

I stopped in the middle of the grassy field that the kids had left half an hour ago. “Let’s kiss.”

Alex turned around, holding both my hands and winding our fingers together. It felt so right, like two jagged broken pieces of glass melting together to form something smooth and whole. “You’re to the point.”

I raised on hand and kissed his knuckles right where the bandages parted just a little. “You look really nice in this light.”

Alex dropped on of my hands to wrap his arm around my waist. He seemed to really like doing that. I really liked it when he did that. “You really want to have the cliché kiss-when-the-sun-goes-down?”

I shrugged, smiling at his point. “I just really want to kiss.”

Then Alex’s arm tightened, drawing me closer, and his lips were pressed against mine, soft and eager. I responded with equal enthusiasm, my lips parting as his tongue swept my bottom lip, leading the kiss from gentle to fierce, passionate and rich. It was like the sunset, warm and thick with expression, bright with emotion, beautiful with love.

I decided I really liked the  _ when the sun goes down _ cliché. 

Alex looked thoughtfully at the sunset after we pulled away. “I always wanted to kiss you.” he admitted finally.

I gulped. “What?” Had I heard him right? What did that even mean?

“I always- I had a crush on you since pretty much the moment we met.” Alex was still staring at the colorful sky, but his cheeks were too red for it just to be the light. He let out a soft chuckle. “You had me at ‘ _ hello’ _ .”

I spluttered. Such an intelligent response. “Oh my god. We’re  _ so dumb. _ ”

Alex glanced at me quickly before blushing and going back to watching the sun. “Why’s that?”

So freaking adorable when he was bashful.

“I liked you too. I liked you from the moment we shook hands.” 

Alex turned back to me. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” We walked into the office laughing.

As soon as I was through the doorway, my voice caught in my throat. I opened and closed my mouth, but no words came out. Alex appeared uncomfortable, and I squeezed his hand to let him know he wasn’t intruding.

“Hi,” I squeaked. And then we were laughing and hugging.

“John!”

“Michael!” I gasped. “Mother!”

 

\---Alex’s POV---

The only other time I’d ever seen John so happy was when I’d told him I loved him. It lit up the world.

“Alex, this is Michael and my mother.”

I shook their hands with a smile. “Call me Eleanor,” Ms. Laurens told me.

“Mother, Michael, this is Alex,” John gestured. He ducked his head shyly. “My boyfriend.”

I waved awkwardly, and John’s brother let out a whistle and applauded so vigorously, I could easily recognise how much it would hurt to see him pretend to be someone he wasn’t. He seemed so  _ him _ .

Michael marched right up to me. “If you even  _ think _ about hurting my brother  _ in any way _ , it won’t matter that we live in different states. You could run to the other side of the world-”

John interrupted Michael with a grin. “If Alex hurts me I will thank him for giving me the happiest days of my life before,” he gave an exaggerated pause, “ _ whatever _ .”

I only gaped. “Damn,” I said. “Memory.”

John smirked. “I’m a man of many talents.”

A knock sounded on the door, and I quickly opened it to see Philip, gazing apprehensively up at me.

“Mr. Washington, sir, you wanted to see me.”

Washington spoke up from the chair behind his cluttered desk. “Mr. Philip, come in, have you met your mother?”

 

\---John’s POV---

“What?” I blurted.

“ _ What? _ ” Philip echoed.

“ _ What?!” _ Michael added for good measure.

Alex observed logically, “Well, you do look alike.”

We were all staring at Mr. Washington. All of us except for Mother, who was staring at Philip, and Mr. Washington, who was staring at Mother.

Washington cleared his throat. “I believe Eleanor is the one more qualified to tell this story.”  _ Eleanor?  _ Did they know each other?

I looked back and forth. “Do you guys know each other?”

Michael looked as though he’d just been forced to swallow something nasty. “Wait… why don’t I look like  _ them _ ?” He pointed to us.

Philip shook hi s head. “But… wait… I’m an orphan. Right?”

Mother took a deep breath and held her hands up to silence us. “Let me tell you a story.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said mostly just cute.


	55. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very bad backstory.

\---Eleanor’s POV---

I smiled around. My first and oldest son. My adopted son. My biological son. The young man who I was sure would one day be my son-in-law. This story would be a hard one to tell, but I would do it for them. For family, no matter how far the family stretched.

“Marrying your father was a mistake.” Was it ever. The first sentence was easy, because it was a truth I’d know and told myself over and over and over, outloud, to friends, to myself when I fell asleep. 

The later parts were the ones that would be painful. I had made other mistakes. “When we had you, John, we were okay. We were happy, he was kind. He got worse over the years. He wanted more than fatherhood and a stable life, I think, so he figured you’d be his way up- he would succeed through you. He didn’t want to have the reputation of a dick, you know, to divorce me, but he thought I was holding him down, and he hated me for it. Eventually, he hated you too.

I told this to John, who took it really well. I suppose he had known, since Henry made no secret of his hate for either of us. 

“I hated it. He treated you terribly. I did everything I could not to have another child. To make sure no other kid had to suffer the way you did.” I shifted my gaze to Philip, my eyes teary. “But he kept at it… and after as long as I could hold out, years and years, we had you.”

“Wait, but then what…?” Michael looked lost and afraid, an something in my chest shattered as he realized the truth I’d never told him.

“I’m… I’ll get there.” I managed to steady my voice before I clarified, “He didn’t know about you, Philip. He only knew that I was pregnant, and I had a friend drive me to the hospital. If he hadn’t been at work when I went into labor…” I shuddered at the thought and decided it was better to leave that sentence unfinished.

“So… then I was born?” Philip sounded so young. So innocent and foolishly, naively believing. Not the steadfast belief in someone you know inside and out, but the flappable belief in a perfect someone that will reach in and make everything better. 

People like that didn’t exist. I certainly wasn’t one.

I nodded. “I explained to the doctors. It took a couple hundred midnight whisper fights and many legal, hypothetical questions, but i got them to put down that I had a miscarriage- and you were sent to the most caring, liberal, right-doing orphanage I could find. In doing that, I made a lifelong friend, who later took John in.” I sent a warm smile to Washington, who responded with a supportive smile of his own. It was relieving to lean in his strength. 

I didn’t think even Washington knew everything, though, and I felt done with half truths and untold lies, so I quickly added in a rush, “And I met someone else.”

I was right. Washington did  _ not _ know. His eyebrows shot up, and I gave him a quick shrug before moving on. “Anyways, that’s when I did the worst thing I’ve ever done. Henry was  _ so mad  _  when he found out about you, Philip, and it was the first time he abused me.”

“Mother?” John stared at me in confusion, gesturing first to Michael and then to Philip. “How come I didn’t… How…?”

I added that to the mountain of questions I had yet to answer. More and more pain that I had to- and deserved to- deal with.

It was official. I was the worst mother ever.

“Well… it was the first time he  _ physically _ abused me. In any case, Henry was so upset, and at the time I wasn’t used to, you know, the…” I waved a hand at the bruise on my cheekbone and winced. “I was just weak-”

“No-” I was interrupted by Michael’s exclamation. 

“Mother!” John gasped at the same time.

I didn’t deserve the defence. I would never forgive myself, for everything. For giving John a terrible life, for bringing Michael into one, for pushing Philip away and keeping the truth as far from him as I was.

“Eleanor.” a rough voice began, warm and concerned. “You can’t blame yourself like that. It’s not your fault. The world’s unfair, but whatever it is that’s making you think like that- you’re wrong. Nobody should ever get used to abuse, physical, mental, or emotional.” John’s boyfriend took my hand and squeezed, looking me in the eye. My boys fell silent. “ _ Trust me _ . Thinking like that will get you nowhere. I should know.” 

I didn’t even realize I was crying until Alex was pulling out a white cloth and gently drying my tears. “It’s all my fault,” I choked, burying my face in the handkerchief. I’d never said any of this outloud, and the emotions of all the years suppressed and locked away threatened to explode out of me. I’d thought I was turning it off, like a light switch, but I was just holding it back, like a river. The floodgates were open now, and there was so much pressure that I could barely speak around it.

“Shhhh…” Alex put his arm around my shoulders and let me cry, rubbing his hand up and down my forearm soothingly. Probably a practiced move- after all, he did work at an orphanage, cheering as many lives as I ruined. My boys slowly formed a supportive circle around me.

John took my hand, Michael leaned his head against my knees, Philip sat in front of me.

Strangely enough, I still couldn’t find any anger or hate in Philip’s eyes. Or Michael’s. Or John’s. Confusion, torrents and tangles of pain and love, but when they gazed at me, it wasn’t with the hate I’d prepared for.

“I adopted you,” I blurted to Michael, punctuated with sobs. Michael’s expression appeared as though he’d been slammed into a wall, but he recovered quickly, no doubt having already figured it out and only dealing with hearing it outloud. “Yep, it was kinda obvious, Mom.” At my hard look, he admitted, “It’s kinda hard to take in though.”

I handed the soaked handkerchief back, thanking Alex. He was kind, and something comforting, anchoring, that made one feel understood. He knew what I felt like.

A monster.

I waved my hand at Michael. “You were a couple years old… I’m surprised you don’t remember anything from the local orphanage… not even a couple, really. You were 5, I do believe. He wanted you on the older side so that the age gap between you and John wasn’t so much…” I turned back to John, fighting back another crashing wave of guilt. I discovered you can’t fight waves. “I don’t know what he did to you.” I sounded desperate, even to my own ears, a woman stranded alone of a desert, begging for the water of forgiveness. “Whatever it was, you never questioned Michael’s age or how he was related ever again.”

Confusion flitted across John’s concerned face as he tried to understand what I was saying.

“John,” Alex began hesitantly, and I nodded my consent. “Sometimes… sometimes when something hurts  _ really _ bad, you feel kind of numb there, right? So… your brain blocks the pain… Sometimes it also blocks out traumatic experiences or subjects. That  _ asshole _ probably… it’s likely you asked and that he responded…”

John nodded slowly and Alex stopped talking, pressed a small kiss to John’s forehead, and wrapped his arms around John’s waist.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, knowing the words would never be enough. My head dropped and my eyes swam with more tears. 

“You’re  _ sorry? _ ” John was obviously upset. “Mother, look at me. Please. It’s not your fault.”

“Yes it is.” Looking at my hands, I slowly counted off all the things I could have done. “I could have divorced. I could have stopped selfishly wanting to love you and put you in the orphanage and I could have not adopted Michael, I could have left you to be raised by these wonderful people, I could have told Philip- but I didn’t.”

“You know we know you know that bi- b- bastard would have beaten the shite out of you right? For any of those things?” I didn’t even have the presence of mind to glare at Michael for his almost use of profanity… did  _ shite _ count? I’d have to figure that one out later. Michael took both my hands. “Mom. I wouldn’t have it  any other way.”

I looked around at my sons. “Forgive me.”

John smiled, watery and stronger than I’d ever seen. “There’s nothing to forgive.”


	56. Hand in Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love, love, love. Last chapter, except for the epilogue. 
> 
> WARNING: explicit, so... this chapter is just them making love.

\---Alex’s POV---

I followed John up the steps to the hallway that led to our dorm room, my head spinning. Not with questions. Just spinning.

John appeared rather shocked, his expression changed with the minute as he probably was struggling to comprehend his entire life through a new and different colored lens. Yet in the set of his shoulders, the draw of his eyebrows, the absent movements of his hand, I could tell he was absolutely comforted whether or not he realized it at the time.

“John?” I murmured as I walked in the door behind him.

He turned around and dropped any pretense of a smile in favor of an honest, shell shocked expression. I stepped forward, hugging him, and we just stood there, holding each other, until the pieces of our lives fell into the positions they were meant for.

 

\---John’s POV---

It was a surprise.  _ Fuck _ it was a surprise.  _ It was a surprise  _ was making a molehill out of a mountain. But I wasn’t erupting, because I didn’t feel like I needed to erupt; I somehow wasn’t punching a wall or starting a fight.

I knew Mother had done her best, and it wasn’t her fault and I loved her unconditionally and she did what was right to the extent that she could and I knew there were secrets- I’d just imagined that box of suspicions and  _ crushed it _ , I knew that they were out now, and I knew it was over. I just knew so much stuff now. I had no reason to be unhappy and given a few weeks, I might even stop feeling overwhelmed.

I guessed Mother felt pretty overwhelmed too, saying all those things for the first time, to do it to all three of her sons at once, to do it all at once, not piece by piece.  _ Thank you for everything I know. _

It didn’t change much, in the grand scheme of things. I still loved Michael like a brother, I still cared about Mother more than anyone in the world- except, well,  _ maybe _ tied with Alex- and I still considered Philip family because how could I not when I laughed and talked to and taught him every day? As for Mother, I only realized she was stronger than I’d ever imagined.

I burrowed closer into Alex’s warm body under the blankets and felt him laugh just a little. He kissed the top of my head, and I nuzzled his clothes until I found his collarbone and kissed that. 

He still smelled like coffee.

I felt Alex’s fingers weaving their way deftly through my hair. I smiled at how obsessed Alex was with pulling my hair gently and letting the curls spring. It was pretty cute.

“I wonder who she was talking about.” Alex mused into my hair.

“Hmmm?” 

“She said she... _ met someone else _ and it sounded kind of like this person was… romantically involved with her.”

I blinked. After everything Mother had told us, I’d forgotten about that comment. “Well… who works here?”

“Mr. Heere?” suggested Alex.

I scrunched up my face. “I can’t see it.” I told Alex. “Also, Michael has a crush on Mr. Heere’s son and Mother would have said something… otherwise that’d be really… I dunno, weird, right?”

Alex giggled, and I tilted my head up to look at him. “What?”

With a sheepish grin, Alex wiggled his eyebrows at me. “Is she gay? Or bi or something…?”

I shrugged, trying not to think too hard about it. “I… she always avoided answering… I think maybe but she isn’t out of the closet actually…” I rushed on. “Why?”

“Oh my goodness, John, Heidi?”

I gaped. They seemed compatible, but the idea of them  _ together  _ was so… weird. But not in a bad way. “Maybe?” I squeaked.

Alex smirked. “John. She’s the only single, available adult that works here other than Mr. Heere.  _ And _ Heidi’s got a son here, correct?”

“Yes! Evan Hansen. Oh my god.” I grinned, goofy and open. “I don’t know if I’ll survive this.”

“Oh, you will.” Alex dipped his head and pulled me into a long, passionate kiss of coffee and warm tongue. He looped an arm around my waist and pulled me flush to him before pulling away. “You always do.”

I rolled onto my back, draggin Alex on top of me. “Nah, surviving is your thing.”

This time it was  _ me _ pulling  _ him _ in, deepening the kiss as I rolled my hips into his.

Soon, our hands were running all over each other’s bodies. I slipped Alex’s shirt over his head and Alex lifted his arms to help me.

I was soon out of my own shirt and fumbling at the waistband of Alex’s jeans, dipping my fingers in and out teasingly. I moaned as Alex’s lips found my neck, then my collarbone, kissing their way down to linger on my nipples, hot, wet, and sexy.

I was nearly writhing under him, ready to beg him to hurry up and fuck me, when he say up as though just thinking of something.

“Fucking tease,” I gasped out.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he snickered, pulling my pants off eagerly. “It would be insanely hot if you prepared yourself. But if you don’t mind,” he leaned down and I squirmed as he kissed me through my boxers. “I’d like to do it myself.”

Gently easing off me, Alex began to unwind the rough, white gauze from his fingers and down his forearm.

“Alex…” I began hesitantly. I could barely think at the picture of Alex’s fingers in me, but I was more concerned for Alex than for my pleasure.

In response, Alex kissed me passionately and assured afterwards, “Don’t worry. Those wounds have healed.”

 

\---Alex’s POV---

John was so beautiful, sprawled on his back in only his boxers, a galaxy of freckles spread before me as though he was giving me the universe.

Reaching forwards, John pulled insistently at my jeans, which were harder to get off because they were skinny jeans, but he made quick work of them before I pushed him gently back down, my hand in the middle of his chest where I could feel his heartbeat racing.

I followed his body as he leaned back, my pulse matching his at a mile a minute, my hand fumbling in his soft, curly hair as I ruffled it, sending it tumbling over the pillow. I needed this; I needed him on me, every inch of his skin on mine.

I opened my mouth to speak, but all that came out was a moan as John toyed with my nipples with a cheeky grin. I gazed down at him, his head resting between the two arms that held me up. He laughed. “Hi Alex.”

God I loved him.

I lifted one hand and let it travel downwards as John relentlessly kissed me on my neck, going down to my chest, lighting me up with each kiss. It felt like fire and stars every time, trails of electricity down my spine. I traced his erection through his boxers, my fingers firm, gently palming it almost casually. I grinned when he bucked his hips to meet my hand as I began to stroke slowly, intentionally setting an agonizingly slow pace.

“John. Are we going to…?” We hadn’t gone farther than a few blow jobs, hand jobs, rutting, but somehow tonight felt like  _ the night. _ Or maybe I just wanted him so badly, I was willing to make it the night. “I really… I want to.”

John’s fingers played at the edge of my underwear, snapping the elastic as he squirmed under my hand. “ _ Yes, _ oh my god, yes, hurry up.” John slid my boxers down and I hardened even more as the cool night air hit my cock. That was followed by John’s fingers, which traveled up and down so lightly, I barely felt it and yet I felt them so acutely, I could barely breathe.

“You know that was important right? I can give you the consent talk; it’s not something we rush through.” I smirked at John’s alarmed expression.

“Nope,  _ nope _ , you are  _ not _ going to lecture me right when we’re about to have sex.” I opened my mouth to object that nerdiness can be sexy, and John takes the opportunity to kiss me, long and hard. His tongue slips into my mouth, hot and slick and smooth, dancing in and out and around my mouth like that’s what it was meant to do, and he moaned into my mouth when I freed him of his boxers and teased the tip of his penis with my finger.

John was stroking me in earnest now, and I was unconsciously moving my hips to it, gasping. “Hurry up!” John whined as I kissed down his chest. I wanted to kiss every freckle on his body, to ravish every inch of his skin, but I agreed with John as well. I wanted this now.

I moved down, sliding my hands over his supple, smooth thighs as I took him in my mouth.

“Oh.  _ OH _ , god you’re amazing.” John choked out, his fingers finding the bedsheets and then my hair and gripping tightly. “God!” I swirled my tongue, a reflection of the arousal he swirled in me with each word and moan. It didn’t take long for him to match my rhythm, sliding up and down, in and out as I watched him tremble and whimper and try not to buck in my mouth, tasting his precum on my tongue, feeling him and tasting him as I ravished every inch of his member. 

Alex-! Alex! Wait, wait.” I didn’t want to stop, and John stumbled over the words, moaning, shouting, gasping them enough that I could pretend I didn’t hear, but I reluctantly stopped, letting his dick slip from between my lips with a pop. John looked at me from between his legs. “I’m bottoming,” he announced, blushing with is whole body. I could see it, right down to his ass and up his freckled thighs.

I opened my mouth to assure him that that’s what I had planned for too, but all that I managed was, “Obviously,” before he’d swung his legs down and pushed me against the headboard of the bed. A couple seconds later, I choked over a gasping moan as his tongue danced over my cock, teasing. “Hurry up, dammit.” I gasped out, and John quickly encased my entire member in his mouth before setting a fast pace, his teeth scraping lightly every time he pulled back.

It was pure heaven. Warm, wet, fast, passionate and  _ so, so, good _ . I nearly made him gag when I couldn’t help thrusting into it. I wanted this forever and ever, and I had wanted this forever and ever and- we had to stop  _ now _ . “I- _ oh _ \- I’m gonna-!” John pulled free instantly, looking regretfully back at my cock, bobbing between us, rock hard and leaking precome that he cheekily dipped his head down to lick from my slit, smirking as I whimpered and wriggled, clenching my fists and toes so as not to cum then and there. “I’m serious,” I gasped, and John pulled me up so he was the one lying down.

“Well, come on then,” he grinned, spreading his legs wide open and raising his eyebrows suggestively. “I’m all yours.”

“ _ God. _ ” My fingers scrabbled for the bottle of lubricant on the nightstand. “Up,” I whispered, tugging John’s legs into the air. He complied quickly, and I couldn’t help but take a moment to appreciate how fucking incredible he was as he slipped his legs over my shoulders and pushed his ass in the air so I could reach down. I returned the smile. “You’re so beautiful.”

 

\---John’s POV---

I wanted Alex so badly it  _ hurt _ , and he  _ knew _ I was falling to pieces with the torturously slow pace he set. Alex worked his way over my thighs, leaving hickeys all over the underside of them, and I loved knowing that he wanted me to be his. He left one on the inside of my thigh, and just as he pulled away from it, I felt a cool fingertip at my entrance. My cock jumped as it tapped gently there, not entering, and my asshole flexed needily. I didn’t even care that the little breathless noises I was making were morphing into pants, because I needed that finger in me  _ now. _

I bucked my hips into it, but Alex insistently continued to tap his finger, dipping in just a little bit further every time as I gasped for something.

And then the finger began to trace my puckered hole, going in circles, in circles, in- “Oh.” Inside. God, it felt so good. Unbelievable. I ground my hips into it, but Alex placed a hand my my hip, and I got the message- he didn’t want me fucking his finger, he wanted my fucking his cock.

More than OK with me. I wished he’d get on with it- and then he did, sliding his finger in and out slowly. It burned a little at first, but not much, and I hissed quietly. Alex took my hand and kissed my knuckles until I was ready for a second finger. Alex smiled, probed with the second finger for a moment, and then pushed it in. Wow, that was good. I arched my back, closed my eyes. “Oh…” 

“Mmmm.” Alex agreed, the vibrations from his humm shooting straight to my dick.

A third finger, slink and gentle, and I bit back another small hiss as I relaxed my muscles around his fingers to let them in and out, in out, stretching me. I could feel my hole gradually loosening as the fingers siscored- “Ah! Oh! Alex, you hit-” I thrust my ass back onto the fingers, wanting  _ that spot _ again, and again.

Alex slipped his fingers out and pushed my legs up so my knees were closer to my chest, gazing down at my wet, loose entrance with pupils blown with desire. “Yeah, we’re ready,” he murmured breathily, busy slicking up his member. I had to fight the urge to go back to sucking it, just to see the look of ecstasy back on his face. 

Alex leaned forward, and my eyes widened as the tip nudged my ready entrance. “Yup, so ready.” I agreed eagerly, grabbing his shoulders and yanking him into a messy, graceless kiss just as he pushed in.

God, it was heaven.

It was better than heaven, feeling his cock, thick, long, and hard, up my ass, sliding slowly in, knowing it was  _ Alex _ in me, knowing that I was the one making him moan, close his eyes, made his head fall back and his mouth form a silent “O.”

Alex leaned back down to capture my lips in a strong kiss and I felt his arms tremble before I realized he was waiting for me. “You can move.” I told him, and when he did, my world exploded into color, sparks, fireworks, pure, unadulterated light.

Alex pulled back, pushed back in, hitting more nerves left and right then I knew I had and moaning loud enough to make me very glad we had no neighbors. “God, you’re so tight,” he murmured into my mouth as I moved my hips in tandem. “Can I move faster?” He’d been going far too slow, but now I was kissing him, so my mouth was too busy to answer.

Instead, I responded my shoving up my hips, impaling myself on his member before pulling them back down, fast enough to hear the slap of skin on skin snap through the dorm room.

Alex gasped, and I smiled wickedly into the kiss. He responded by grabbing my hips tight enough to leave bruises- god that was hot- and setting a punishing, passionate pace, punctuated with all manner of growls, gasps and shouts, moans most of all.

It wasn’t long before Alex found my prostate again, and from then I could barely remember anything- I forgot my life, my name, my existence in the cries of ecstasy. The one thing that anchored me to earth through the raging sea of bliss was Alex. In me, on me, loving me, kissing me, touching me, fucking me.  _ Alex. _

I watched his face filter through expressions of need, desire, and so much pleasure as he slammed into me again and again, my fingers finding purchase in his hair and grabbing his ass with urgency and my own need.

Soon I was giving up on, “Alex!”, “Oh!”, “God!”, “Ah!” and reverting to animalistic groans, gasps, and cries of pleasure. Alex, always the more eloquent one, nevertheless had to do the same half a minute later as I flexed my passage as well as I could around his member and almost came at the sight of his blissed-out expression.

There was nothing but the sound of skin on skin, moans, cries and panting that we sent through the room and the unbelievable, otherworldly wonder of pleasure and love.

White was blurring into the edges of my vision, light and stars. “I- Oh, ah! I’m close-!” Alex gasped out, his arms shaking. I snickered, slowing my hips down and watching desperation reign over Alex’s features.

So hot.

Alex thrust needily into me, but I grinned and held his hip gently as he whimpered and whined. This was payback for the stalling earlier. “John,  _ god. _ I need…”

I raised an eyebrow and slowed the pace even more until we were barely moving, nevermind I was horny as fuck and needed him just as much. “You need…”

Alex blushed bright red, and I blinked innocently back. “I need- Oh-” I traced his chest idly. “I need you, John.  _ Please _ .” Alex choked over the words in desperation, and I let my hand drop, taking the speed from zero to a hundred in a second. 

I could help one little wink. “As you wish.”

“Oh- John!” It only took a few more mind blowing, world shattering thrusts, coordinated, heavy, needy, desperate, forceful thrusts, to have me spilling my load all over our stomachs, and his thrusts faltered as he shot his release into me, collapsing on top of me with a cry as loud as my own.

I wrapped my arms around his sweat-slicked bady, feeling his cum slide through my passage and dribble down my crack. I didn’t care. Alex buried his face into my shoulder, pressing kisses there gently.

I sighed contentedly as he slipped out of me.

“You’re incredible.”

 

\---Alex’s POV---

After cleaning up, we curled into each other. It felt warm, safe, and like  _ home. _

I loved it. I loved John.

I slipped my hand into John’s and squeezed, holding up the other arm. “See, healed. It’s okay now.  _ I’m  _ okay now.” With a soft kiss, I added, “Because of you.”

John just kissed me back simply. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

We drifted off to sleep, hand in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are scenes people have asked me to write, so any chapter after the epilogue is not a development, it is just a part I didn't include in the narrative that someone wanted to see play out. I might add these to the end, as extra bonus chapters, but they're not, like, a new part of the story. These MAY include:
> 
> Jeff/Mads lunch date as hinted in Another Shot  
> Eleanor gives Alex the boyfriend talk and/or Michael gives Alex the boyfriend talk. 
> 
> Unfortunately, they won't make it into the straight read, but it might make it to the end, if anyone reads it.


	57. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all so much, and I hope you're satisfied with this ending because I know that I suck at ending things.
> 
> I have a SonnyxGraffiti Pete story that I'll start publishing on Easter called Puzzle Pieces. I have a Father and Son for In The Heights (Benny and Kevin, how could I not?) you can check out... enough with the self-promo.

**_5 years later_ **

\---Philip’s POV---

I kissed  _ her _ long and hard, pooling love and understanding into the kiss as though it was a flowing river of feelings.

“I still love you.” I murmured into  _ her _ long hair.

Theodore blinked  _ her _ eyes as I pulled away to look  _ her _ sincerely in the eye. “I thought you were gay.” His- _ her _ voice was rough and sounded not  _ manly _ but definitely  _ boyish _ .

I shrugged. “I’m confused as you are, but I’m pretty sure I feel the same way about you. Theo-sexual.”

“Theodosia.” I didn’t have to ask what  _ she _ meant by that. 

I smiled, genuinely happy to hear it from  _ her _ lips. “It suits you.”

She looked up at me, a shy smile that I knew so well blooming on her soft lips. She. Her. Hers.

I bit my lip, afraid to slip up. “It might… you… after so many years…”

She grabbed my hand. “It’s okay. I know it will take some getting used to. Theodosia.”

“Theodosia.” I repeated.

“Theodosia.”

“Theodosia.”

“It’s not that much of a change, right?” She asked. 

I gazed at her frankly. Same shy smile. Same soft, full lips, same light freckles over dark skin, same intelligent eyes, same tumbling voice. Same person. Different identity. Only one thing had changed: it felt more right.

“Just barely.”

Theodosia smiled.

 

\---Alex’s POV---

“Guess who.” My vision went black as two freckled hands covered my face gently.

I smirked. “My dearest, Angelica, is that you?”

John let out a fake gasp, clasping his hands to his chest, and stared at me in mock horror. “One and a half years of marriage, gone down the drain.”

I shook my head. “One year and five months.” I corrected him primly, and he swept me into a kiss that  _ still _ made my heart race. 

“Always so exact.”

“Uh… Dad? Papa?” Philip’s voice sounded from the corner. At 14 going on 15, Philip was nearly as tall as John, and they almost looked like twins.

It was easy to tell they were brother, harder to explain they were also father and son… “Yes Pip?” I prompted when Philip didn’t continue.

“Dad, please do  _ not _ call me that,” Philip groaned, rolling his eyes.  _ Why not? _

A figure stepped up from behind Philip. Theodore. Oh, that was why. The two had been in love for what felt like an eternity.

“We’d like… to talk to you…” Theodore began nervously. 

John waved them in, sitting down on the couch. “What is it?”

Theodosia resembled a scared colt ready to flee. “I’m a girl,” he blurted.

_ She _ blurted. Well.

I had never had the conscious thought  _ Theodore is a girl _ , but I wasn’t  _ super _ surprised. There had been hints, moments, habits, expressions, here and there.

No one had ever told me they were transgender-not-transitioned yed, but I didn’t stop to calculate the best response. The best policy is honesty. I immediately stood up and enveloped Theodore in a hug.

“Okay,” John agreed simply. “Okay.” 

“She wants to be called-” 

“Theodosia.” Philip and Theo-Theodosia said together.

I smiled, taking John’s hand, sharing the euphoric joy of someone finding a way to  _ own _ and  _ be proud _ of who they were. “Theodosia.” I murmured, feeling it roll smoothly off the tongue. “Do… would you…” It wasn’t often that I stumbled for words, but here I was. “Would you like to discuss your transition?”

I had never seen Theodosia so happy.

 

\---Jared’s POV---

We had climbed that tree a million times. I remembered each and every time that I’d been brave enough to pretend to need help just to hold Evan’s hand.

But in the past few years I’d gotten too able to fake it anymore. The tree had grown much taller too.

And Evan had climbed without me.

“Evan, what are you doing?” I called up to him as he made his way to a branch that looked a little too high and a little too thin.

Evan started, obviously surprised, and stuttered, looking me in the eye. “I- I was just… wondering, you know, how the world might-  _ look _ from-” Evan waved a hand too energetically, “-up so high.”

Obviously, he was lying. Evan never looked anyone in the eye. Not even me. Or especially not me. Sometimes I couldn’t tell.

“Well you better climb the fuck down before you break your damn neck. Your legacy will be an acorn.” I drawled sarcastically, trying to hide my panic as Evan kept climbing. 

“I… left my… note- my water bottle in the kit- cafeteria, Jared. Could, maybe would you go get it?”

Why the fuck was he trying to get rid of me? I thought climbing this tree was our thing. Or was until Connor Murphy fell, broke his arm, and made Evan too scared to ever climb it again.

Until now.

Evan had the most miserable, angry expression on his face, and it broke my heart. I swear, Evan had broken my heart a gazillion times by now.

And then I realized what he was trying to do.

“Evan,  _ no! _ ” I shouted, uselessly waving my arms as though he’d pay more attention if I looked like a maniac.

Evan’s voice came out choked, a broken sob as he shot back furiously, “Leave me alone, Jared. Or, you know leave. I’m, well… I’m already alone.”

40 feet in the air and I could hear him just fine, but it felt like I was trying to speak through water when I opened my mouth to argue.

Evan let go.

 

\---Evan’s POV---

I dreaded the pain of death. Well, okay, I dreaded the pain of hitting the ground, which was probably hard and rocky and littered with sticks and spiky leaves and bugs- but death would be a blessing.

Blessing to me at that moment, in that day, meant escape.

Escape from the weight and stress and questions and bad answers that became weightless as I fell.

Escape from Jared, who was, well, Jared, meaning perfect and uninterested and sophisticated and annoyed. By me. 

No one would mind, of that I was sure. Positive. I mean, who would? I knew no one would notice if I disappeared tomorrow.

Why not today?

I knew I would hit the ground soo, because I had been falling for almost a second, maybe two- maybe a second and a half-

But I hit something else instead and tumbled to the ground  _ softly _ and very much on someone.

I wasn’t quite sure what was happening. Why wasn’t I dead and who was I on top of- whose arms were wrapped around me,  _ why wasn’t I dead? _

“Evan.” Jared’s voice, but the emotion was unfamiliar because when I thought of Jared it was all sarcasm. This Jared sounded… desperate. “ _ Evan _ .”

I wasn’t really sure what to say or how to react or what to do about the arms around me so I just looked to see who it was.

Jared. Of course it was Jared, obviously, since Jared was the one closest to me and because he saw me climbing the tree. I just didn’t know why he bothered. I also noticed I was sitting in his lap. We were both at the base of the tree. I must have knocked him backwards.

“You are  _ not _ alone.” Jared insisted, his voice muffled in my shirt. “You are not alone.” He brushed my cheek, and I realized I was crying. And hyperventilating. And blushing. And shaking.

Jared just held me and refused to let go.  _ You are not alone _ … he repeated it again and again and again and again and again.

 

\---James’ POV---

Watching him across the table, it was easy to see the same Thomas from five years ago, and yet it was so hard to picture him the way he used to be, hateful and angry.

I made my way around the coffee table to join him on his couch, kissing his cheek as I sat down. Thomas hesitantly pulled me closer.

Everything Thomas did was hesitant, at least regarding me. It had taken me a month to realized it wasn’t because he didn’t like me. It was because he  _ did. _

I’d found that out one rainy day, when I kissed him for the first time since that fight.  _ You want me? Are you sure? _

His was had sounded so small, and I realized he was afraid I didn’t.

I nuzzled closer.  _ I do. _ I thought at him.  _ I do, I do, I do. _

 

\---Thomas’ POV---

I didn’t deserve him. I never had, but I had never wanted to face that fact. His sweet smile, his shy laugh and warm eyes.

Jemmy had the monopoly on forgiveness, and every time I touched him I had the distinct feeling that it was a privilege, a treasure, and one I didn’t deserve.

I ran my fingers over the rips in my jeans, over the knee that had been broken those years ago, a habit I’d developed for when I was… shy.  _ Shy _ . It still astonished me that Jemmy would reduce me to a blushing, shy guy.

I hated it. But I loved it more.

I pretty much never leaned in. I couldn’t bring myself to believe just yet that I had the right, but I never stopped staring. His lips. His hair. His kind eyes. His gorgeous face. His perfect everything. 

And now he was kissing me and kissing him was  _ everything _ . His fingers tugging my hair gently, his pulse under my fingers on his neck, I had never felt more in love.

Jemmy pulled back to look me in the eyes. “You know I love you, right?” He had asked me pretty much every day. I nodded. Mostly, yes, I did. It was hard to believe, but I knew Jemmy would never  _ ever _ play someone like that.

“I love you too.” I whispered. Jemmy’s eyes widened and his happiness was everything I’d ever wanted.

“Thomas.” he whispered back, and for the first time, I was the one who leaned in.

I hadn’t beaten anyone up since I five years ago.

I hadn’t called anyone the F-worde and I had become more friendly with Alex’s friends. 

I had apologized to Sally, again, again, and again. 

And to Jemmy. And to Peggy. And to Jemmy. And to Eliza. And to Jemmy. And to Maria. And to Jemmy. And to Angelica. And to Jemmy. And even to John because there could never be enough apologies.

And I had apologized to Alex.

And now I kissed Jemmy. I kissed him again, again, and again, each kiss a promise. 

All the promises were the same.

_ One day, I’ll deserve you. _

 

\---Peggy’s POV---

I pulled closer, the sun making her eyes sparkle. “Happy anniversary, babe.”

Sally kissed me, her fingers teasing my waist gently. “Four years.”

_ Four years. _

Four and a half years since she shoved me off her after three months of dating when Jefferson rounded the corner and Sally got scared shitless for my safety again.

Four years and three months since she started to trust Jefferson to not hurt me.

Four years and two months since she started letting herself be herself around me.

Four years since I asked her out again and she finally said yes.

“And three months,” I added.

Three months since she surprised the entire squad by springing  _ the question _ on me on a quiet night together. Three months since I said yes.

The sparkle on my finger lit her eyes up as I fluttered my hand coyly.

 

\---Sally’s POV---

Sometimes I laughed at my past self for ever thinking I was just a playful conquest or random girl to flirt with, because it was so clear Peggy loved me body and soul.

Today was one of those days. We were prancing around the orphanage and coffee shop, getting peppered with  _ happy anniversary _ s, hand in hand.

It nearly scared the gay out of me to propose, but she said  _ yes _ immediately, no hesitation. The only reason it took her a full minute was because first she kissed me and then she cried and cried.

Peggy wore her ring around everywhere and treasured it like it was second only to me. She even changed the hand she waved with so she could wave it in people’s faces.

She might as well have written  _ Sally’s fiancé _ on her forehead. Which she did one day and proceeded to search for a marker that lasted longer.

“Three months,” I agreed quickly. I was so ready to head home. We didn’t need a bed, even, the living room couch would do. We just needed to  _ not  _ be on a park bench on an orphanage playground. 

I ran my ring finger down Peggy’s jawline to her neck, and didn’t lift my finger as it stopped teasingly at the dip of her collar. Peggy jumped up, all smiles and bubbles, and pulled me down the street in the direction of our small house.

I raised an eyebrow, knowing she was thinking the same thing as me.

Peggy winked.

 

\---Michael’s POV---

Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine….

“Bro? You just got yourself killed!” The beanbags we’d flopped onto  _ really  _ encouraged leaning back and sticking your dick forward, not that I was complaining. After all, it was a pretty great position to have Jere in. 

Just not while playing AOTD.

I sent Jere a grin, wanting to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him. “Sorry, babe, you’re way too distracting.” I pointed to his waist. His shirt had ridden up.

While playing video game. How much cuter can you get?

Jere blushed bright red and sucked his stomach in, even though he was skinnier than is fitt-ass AOTD character.

I set my controller down because I didn’t want to throw it against the wall and crack it- last time I lost level 17 I did just that, and walked slowly up to Jere.

There was no way in hell I could  _ not _ enjoy the look of cheeky anticipation in his face as he grinned up at me, still sprawled pelvis-out on the beanbag.

I missed his braces. Then, he missed mine, so I guessed we were even.

I kissed his stomach, one on the pac-man at his hip, one on his belly button, and then one just below to watch him squirm.

“You’re adorable.”

Jere sat up and wrapped his arms around my waist. His chin easily tucked itself over my head. So fucking tall.  

“I used to think you were the cutest, bounciest thing, you know, but dude, you’re fucking hot.”

 

\---Jeremy’s POV---

We had been together for only a year and a half, when Brooke and Christine had finally had enough and started madly campaigning for us to get together.

The kiss on the football field wasn’t was everything and not enough, but that was pretty much it because we spent the next year being awkward around each other since neither of us had actually asked the other out.

Or, okay,  _ I _ was fucking awkward as shit, and Michael kept up the chill bro thing. Not in a  _ it-never-happened _ way but in a  _ if-you-don’t-want-to-talk-about-it-it’s-fine-it’s-cool _ way.

Turned out the campaign was a bad idea and a good one- bad because it made things so awkward, even Micha got awkward, and good because after about half a year of awkward (and maybe hardcore jealousy on my part because  _ Jake _ ) we finally got together.

And then Rich and Jake got  _ back _ together and I found out that Jake kept flirting with  _ my crush _ to  _ help out his fellow gays _ which was great and all, but he’d never be allowed near Micha again. 

Which I guess was the point, but still.

And after one and a half years and several levels of AOTD, it still caught me off guard when he dropped the game he was  _ still _ obsessed with to randomly show me how much he loved me.

Sometimes it was a bj. I thought maybe the beanbags had something to do with it, which is why I insisted on bringing them to college. Who could turn down free blow jobs from the world’s most incredible, wonderful, sweet, cheesy, hot guy ever? Not me.

Sometimes he just jumped into my lap, pulled my arms around him, and insisted on cuddling. Which I was more than pleased to do.

Sometimes he simply took my face in his hands and told me straight up, “I love you.”

Usually, though, it was like this time: all three.

“This is unsanitary. You should go clean up.”

I pulled Micha tighter to me. “We only cuddled for five-”

“Six minutes!” Micha exclaimed dramatically. “C’mon, my duty is to be over protective, and as the one sucking you off, I now have the authority to drag you to the bathroom.”

I crossed my arms and attempted a pout, but Micha’s grin was too damn contagious.

“To the shower.” Micha demanded sternly, which was ineffective because he was grinning too hard.

I whined. “But you’re so warm!”

Micha grabbed my hand and pulled me up insistently. “Who say I’m not joining you?”

I grinned.

_ I’m so fucking lucky. _

 

\---Justin’s POV---

It turned out Jeremy- I never did forget his name after that night- was right about Naomi, which broke my heart.

I still thought about her a lot, and about what my life would be like if I hadn’t had that chance encounter with Jeremy. I would be in jail, on probation, forever marked as a criminal like the other guys who got caught wre. I wouldn’t have gone to a great college, I wouldn’t have told Naomi I couldn’t find anyone who dealt because I didn’t hang out with people like that. 

I wouldn’t have been here, ready to take flight for the first time ever after the intensive Air Force training. In the pilot’s seat.

It’s like it was destiny.

I was beaten down in the heartbreak of betrayal, but I was moving on. 

And I was down on the ground, but I was flying up.

 

\---John’s POV---

Alex and I left the building hand in hand. I mirrored his soft smile with my own; we’d gotten permission and started arrangements for  _ Theodosia _ ’s biological transition.

She’d been elated, esastic, and the joy seemed to shine from her like a beacon.

And Alex. I had never know someone so adept in concise explanation, quick official arrangements, and yet to be so comforting that he didn’t even make Theo look abashed.

For all his rambling, Alex was awesomely efficient. He’d managed to get Heidi on board within 2 hours, a feat I thought was incredible because of all the official arrangements that would need to be made to have her treatments be from the orphanage rather than a hospital.

“What are you thinking about?” Alex murmured as we sat down in a bench on the play yard. 

“You.” I answered honestly, pulling him playfully onto my lap. “You’re the best.”

“Mmmm.” Alex hummed. “Perhaps second. It’s impossible to compete with you and notable improbable you’re even on the charts.”

I shook my head. “I can’t even argue with that vocabulary. Did you know that ever since I married you, it’s like my thoughts are more intelligent? Who knew it was contagious?” 

Alex opened his mouth to respond, but jumped out of my lap, trembling. “John.”

And then Alex was dashing across the lawn and I was cursing myself for not fastidiously exercising like Alex often did to keep in shape.

Evan was plummeting to the ground from an impossibly high tree. Obviously neither of us were going to reach him soon enough, but I pushed my speed and limps to the limit anyway, with some crazy notion that if I wanted it to be true I could make it true.

Neither of us caught him.

But someone else did.

Jared.

Alex and I pulled to a stop as both teenagers tumbled to the ground, Jared’s limbs wrapped desperately around Evan’s body.

Jared did not look hurt, and although Evan was crying, it became obvious from his blubbering tears and Jared’s mutterings that Evan was not dead. Physically, that is.

I wasn’t sure whether to rush in to make sure anyway or to back off because the moment was obviously a personal one. Alex seemed to struggle with the same issue and inched his way to me instead, his face white.

“That was a suicide attempt.” His voice was so low, I could barely hear it. The two boys clearly didn’t. 

I settled on hovering on the edge of the scene. Evan. The sweet smile, the silent, subtle stabs hidden under a stutter.

Jared. The heart of a romantic and the tongue of a sarcastic comedian.

I recalled his words, the day I told the class of Alex all those years ago.

Jared was holding Evan so tight, I was worried he’d break Evan’s ribs. “Never do that again,  _ please, please _ .” I had never heard Jared so broken. Or so relieved.

“Why?” Evan gasped through his tears.

_ Give him a reason to stay. _

I didn’t know if Jared even saw me before, but he noticed me now, if only in a quarter-of-a-second thought. I wouldn’t interrupt, not something like this, but I begged him to remember his own advice.

Jared met Evan’s eyes, and when he spoke, Evan smiled a little, leaving the rest of us to smile too, relieved.

“I think I love you.”

 

~Fin~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end. Finished. I hope you guys loved it as much as I loved writing it and I love you as much as I love the story because for those of you who read the chapters as they came out, commented, and voted, you are the reason this story is finished and came out the way it did. It isn’t my story, it’s ours. I love you so much for doing this with me.

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me what you think!! I always welcome constructive criticism, and thank you SO MUCH for reading!!  
> <3


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